After the Credits
by Pegeen Murphy
Summary: What happened in the GAMM episodes aired after the credits rolled? Two author's ideas. By Kathy and Mary.
1. The Pilot

**AFTER THE CREDITS**

**What happened in each episode of the series after the credits rolled? Two author's take on the subject.**

**Disclamer for all chapters:**

_We do not own the Ghost and Mrs. Muir or any of it's characters -- just trying to have a little fun with them, and they will be returned unharmed._

**The Pilot**

**By Kathy**

He made sure that Mrs. Muir was peacefully sleeping, and then silently headed to the nursery to check on the children. Like the spirit he was, he entered the room without detection and settled down on the window seat where he could watch both of them equally.

_It's good to have children in the house,_ he thought. He had built this room for children after all. He had often imagined them, a boy, naturally, and then a girl. A man wasn't really a man without a son, but he had always favored little girls. He had yearned to teach his son his craft; to know that everything he had worked hard for would be taken care of, as it should be. He had wanted a son to carry on the name of Gregg and to make him proud.

He had longed for a girl, too, pink and pretty, that he could spoil and shower with gifts; to have her crawl up on his knee at night and hug him tight. He would have killed the lads when they had started to gather around his daughter, and even the one he gave her to would have needed to watch his step.

Two fine young children. It had been his dream.

And yet here they were. No, they weren't his, this was true. They belonged to their beautiful sleeping mother and a man he may never know anything about. The boy had been easy to convince of his existence. The girl was not ready, but perhaps someday she would be aware of him.

He turned to look at the lad, noticing his fine features — so much like his mother's. He was small, but a few weeks in the good salt air would take care of that. And so would the housekeeper's cooking, he gathered. He would look forward to spending time with the child, Jonathan; he had heard his sister call him. Fine name.

He repositioned, the better to see the girl. Her eyes were scrunched tight and she held tightly to her pillow. Somewhere he had a doll, one he had bought in England for a friend's little girl, a pretty toy with black curls and a smiling china head. He must remember to look for it and leave it where the lass would be sure to find it. He liked the idea of her having it. She let out a small sigh in her sleep and rolled over. Small hands like her mother's. He usually detested the way women today cut their hair until it was hardly visible, but the short bob fit the girl's pixie face.

"Don't be afraid of me," he said gently. "Even though you don't know I am here, yet, lass, I will be waiting for when you are ready to find me." The pillow fell out of her bed and he hurriedly put it back where it was. She continued to sleep.

"I look forward to our adventures together," he addressed the boy now. "I feel you are a kindred spirit."

His family. No, he would never admit it, but he was glad they were here. All of them. It was a new beginning for all of them.


	2. Haunted Honeymoon

**HAUNTED HONEYMOON**

**By Mary**

**_TV Guide Summary: A young couple on the way to their wedding get stranded at Gull Cottage for the night and Captain Gregg is beside himself at what to do with them. So he decides they must get married that night._**

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

Carolyn shook her head as the invisible seaman pelted the newly married Gladys and Harvey Dillman with rice, and then watched as the two blasted down the road in their now-repaired automobile. Henry, from the garage, tipped his hat and departed, and then Martha headed for the kitchen, herding the children along in front of her.

"Did you really have to do that, Captain?" she whispered to the empty air, but received no answer.

XXX

It was Saturday, but, as Carolyn explained to her children, after a leisurely breakfast (the Dillmans's were in a hurry to start their honeymoon, so hadn't wanted to stay and eat with them) she still had an article to finish, and when they were all done, the children went upstairs to clean their room, and Martha started her ironing.

About two hours later, there was a knock at the door of the Captain's Captain, aka: Carolyn's bedroom/office.

"Come in," Carolyn called, and Martha entered, carrying a large white box, and leaving the door open behind her. Carolyn lifted an eyebrow. "You come bearing gifts?"

"Not hardly," Martha shook her head. "It's your wedding dress. I was wondering – Do you want me to take it to the cleaners in town, or go up to Keystone to have it properly preserved?"

"Preserved?"

Martha nodded. "If you don't have it done right it will be in sorry shape, when the day comes that Candy will need it for her wedding."

"Did you call me, Martha?" Candy asked, hearing her name, and popping her head in the door, followed by the rest of her, "I'm done, and Jonathan just about is. He's still finding things under his bed."

"I don't know how so much stuff lands under there," the housekeeper shook her head. "But honey, I wasn't calling you; I was just asking your mother what she wants done with her wedding dress, now that our nightly nuptials are over."

The little girl let out a small gasp and made a beeline for the gown, now on Carolyn's bed. "This is YOUR dress, Mom? I thought it was Miss Zimmer… I mean, Mrs. Dillman's," she giggled. "How come I've never seen it before?"

"I had it put away," Carolyn smiled, "For safe-keeping."

"But…" the girl continued, "Granddaddy said you and Daddy eloped. I didn't think you had a wedding dress…"

"But I did," Carolyn reached out and gave Candy a hug. "There it is… and some day I will tell you what happened…"

"…And why you didn't get to wear your wedding dress for very long," the housekeeper added in a sotto voice. "I'm hoping for something better, for Candy, and perhaps for YOU some day!"

Carolyn rolled her eyes at Martha's comment.

"I wish I could try it on," Candy said plaintively, "But it's too big for me, and besides, I'm getting too old for playing dress-up."

"All used up and worn out at age eight," her mother answered, clearly not meaning her words, "Wouldn't you at LEAST like to try on the veil, Candy?" she asked, pulling it out, and shaking loose the netting.

"Could I?" the girl's eyes were wide.

"I don't see why not," her mother smiled, placing it gently on her daughter's head. "There. You look beautiful."

"I do? Let me see!" Candy answered, and made a race to the dresser and looked at herself in the old-fashioned oval mirror. The girl surveyed herself critically. "It looks really neat, Mom, but I wish my hair was a little longer, like yours. It would look better then…" she paused, "Hey!"

"Hay is for horses," Martha murmured.

"I don't have a better word," Candy argued, "But, Mom… will you try on your dress?"

"Oh, Candy, I don't know…" Carolyn said doubtfully, "This isn't really the time, and I don't even know if it will fit me now."

"Oh I bet it will," Candy answered immediately, "You're beautiful. And not fat, like some of the moms in town are."

"And you are prejudiced," Carolyn answered, pleased. "But you shouldn't call the other mothers "fat," and I am trying to finish my article…"

"Oh, please? It will only take a second…" Candy's blue-green eyes took on a puppy-dog expression that was impossible to turn down.

"You might as well, Mrs. Muir," Martha put in her two cents. "Do it now, before it has been cleaned and packed away again. I wouldn't mind seeing you in it for real, myself."

"Martha…" Carolyn started to say something to the housekeeper, but then shrugged. "Oh, very well," she laughed, and standing, she took the dress from the box on the bed and lifted the veil from her excited daughter's head. Exiting the master cabin, she headed for the bathroom to change.

"Mrs. Muir, I was just wondering…" Captain Daniel Gregg appeared, unseen and unheard to anyone but the lady of the house, but the spirit stopped speaking when he realized Carolyn was nowhere in sight. Before he could take anything else in, he heard Carolyn singing the bridal march, slightly off key, and the cabin door was flung open. Hastily, the Captain made himself invisible to Carolyn, as well.

"For better or worse, here I am," Carolyn announced herself, gathering the dress up and walking toward the French windows, where she let the train of the gown go and then twirled around in a circle. The sun back-lit Carolyn and the dress, wreathing her in a halo of light that was almost ethereal.

"You're a vision, Mrs. Muir!" Martha cried.

"Oh, MOMMY!" Candy added breathlessly. "You're gorgeous!"

"_Words cannot describe this dream in front of me,"_ Daniel Gregg added, unheard and invisible, but if anyone had seen him, they would have also seen the melancholy, dark look that fell over his features as well. Slowly, the seaman's ghostly being left the cabin and materialized on the widow's walk.

"Some day, I WILL wear that dress," Candy declared. "But not until later in life. I have other important stuff to do first."

"You do that, no hurry." Carolyn bent and hugged her daughter tightly. "Now if the fashion show is over, Martha can you unzip me so I can get back to work?"

XXX

The rest of the day passed peacefully, but late, and still later that night, Daniel Gregg paced the widow's walk, and then the beach, haunted by the beautiful image of Carolyn Muir, and his thoughts of what should have been.


	3. Treasure Hunt

**Treasure Hunt**

**By Mary**

_**After Carolyn's failed attempt to appeal Claymore Gregg's vanity to get needed repairs made at Gull Cottage, the Captain sends him on a treasure hunt in the very areas that require fixing.**_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

"Well, that's a woman for you," Carolyn grinned. "Guess you can't change us!"

"Don't know that I want to…" he answered, returning her smile. "After all, you're still the best opposite sex available."

Carolyn shook her head, and smiled back at him again. "Thank you… I think!"

"You're welcome, I'm sure," he nodded.

"I've been meaning to give you this…" she reached into her pocket and pulled out a five-dollar bill and held it out to him. "I lost the bet, so here is your money. I would have paid it this afternoon, but I couldn't find you. Then I got busy with the children, and…"

"My dear, put your money away… in spite of my comment a moment ago, I will not take your money. You need it for more important things; bills, food for the children…"

"But I did lose the bet!"

"I know, but your acknowledgement that you did is quite enough for me. Besides, I got five dollars of fun, just watching that addle-pated, sea-squid nephew of mine make a fool of himself. Put that money back in your pocket. I won't take it."

"Thank you, Captain," Carolyn said, giving him a sunny smile. "You are sw…"

"Madam, we talked about using THAT word and me in the same sentence…"

"So we did," she grinned, her green eyes clearly contradicting him.

There was a pause, and the ghost glanced at Carolyn's… and his former, desk. "You have a great number of books here. Stocking up for the duration?"

"In a way, yes; I thought maybe, if I can learn enough sea-lingo, I might try writing a few adventure stories… or maybe a romance, or something, but not for a while. I have a lot of ground to cover first."

The ghost smiled indulgently. "Indeed."

"You needn't look so condescending; yesterday you said yourself that you didn't know why a ship was called a "she"."

"And you do?"

"I do now… sort of," she frowned.

"Sort of?"

Carolyn reached for one of several books on the desk, and turned to a page she had marked. "It says here that one reason boats…"

"Ships, Madam."

"This book says boats. …_Boats_ are called "she," is because they are often named after important women in the life of the boat's… uhm ship's… whatever… ship's owner, such as his mother, wife, or…" Stopping, she looked up at him. "Did you ever command a ship named after a… woman?"

"One. A schooner, _The Mary Anne."_

"Who is… was, Mary Anne?" Carolyn asked, not entirely sure she wanted the answer.

"I haven't an idea in the world. I merely commanded the vessel; I didn't name her." He gazed at the lady opposite him, and his blue eyes twinkled. "What else does your book say?"

"Hmm. It says here that at one time, all ships were dedicated to goddesses and then later to important mortal women, when people stopped believing in them." She shrugged. "Sounds strange to me."

"How so, dear lady?"

"Because it sounds like you sailors…"

"Seamen, Madam."

"…Seamen, think of women as benevolent – I mean, even your mastheads are carved to look like women – that I have also read that it was bad luck to take a woman on board a ship. Isn't that true?"

"Yes…" he nodded. "Because since the ship was considered a "she," that the ship itself would be jealous of another woman on board. Merely superstition, though a great many seamen I have known were quite superstitious. I must point out, however, that there were some sea captains that traveled with their wife and children." He paused. "I, however, having no wife, commanded and/or traveled alone. What else does your book say?"

"Only that the "she" when referring to a ship might also have to do simply because that is the gender for the word "ship" (Navis) in Latin. So the pronoun is always "she." Carolyn yawned. "I am going to skip this! I hated learning male and female genders for inanimate objects when I took Latin in high school, and I don't like it any better now!"

"Latin? Not French?"

"Latin. Better training, if you want to be a writer."

"Interesting. Any other thoughts?"

"Just this one quote from the _New York Times,_ written in 1903 by someone with the initials HLS." She read. _**"No wonder a ship is called "she." She has shifts, stays, an apron, hooks and eyes, pins, caps and ribbons, hoods, poppets…**_You must explain that word to me, Captain…_**and a husband. Then, too, the rigging costs more than the hull, (whole).**_Now that is a chauvinistic attitude if I ever heard one! Really!"

"Hmm…"

"Hmm, what?"__

"Just, hmm. You know, Mrs. Muir… after we talked yesterday, I started thinking all over again about why ships could be called "she." Would you care to hear my answer?"

"I'd be delighted."

"A ship is a she…" he began, in a soft, velvet voice that commanded her full attention, "…because, you care for her, love her, sleep in her embrace, and when everything goes wrong, if you've done everything you can to keep her happy, she'll stand with you through anything."

Carolyn felt her voice catch as she answered.

"I… I like that answer a great deal, Captain."

"I thought you might," he smiled. "Goodnight, Mrs. Muir," he added, and slowly, he disappeared.

_Ship quote by Jeramy McKay_


	4. The Ghost Hunter

**THE GHOST HUNTER**

**By Kathy**

**_A visitor to Gull Cottage, Paul Wilkie, takes some photos of the house, saying he is just interested in New England architecture. After Wilkie breaks into Gull Cottage and Captain Gregg gives him a few nasty surprises, Carolyn learns he is really a parapsychologist, out to prove to two of his colleagues that ghosts really exist. _**

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

Carolyn couldn't help but chuckle over the events of the last few days. Paul Wilkie had been a bit obsessed, no, very obsessed about finding a ghost at Gull Cottage. She had liked the man, tall and handsome with a spattering of boyish charm. And she did feel sorry for him, having to show him up the way they had. But it had been absolutely necessary to protect the Captain. Now there was a thought - protecting Captain Gregg from anything seemed like the last thing you would ever need to do.

It's been quite the time the last few days hasn't it?" The aforementioned Captain appeared in the main cabin. "I must admit, I had a bit of fun with poor Mr. Wilkie."

"I could tell," she giggled. "I hope he can find something else to obsess about now."

"I'm sure I could probably set up him with another ghost somewhere, if that's what he really wants."

"Another ghost?"

"Well, yes my dear, don't look so surprised. I'm not the only person to have died and refused to cross over. I know of a half-a-dozen just in this area."

"I guess I never thought about it." Her face held that look that told him this would not be the end of THIS conversation.

He walked over the telescope, but turned to face her instead of looking out at the sea below.

"Mrs. Muir?"

"Yes, Captain?"

She was so lovely standing there. It was an observation he made several times a day. He would never tire of it.

"I think that perhaps this weekend we crossed over a line."

"You mean in terms of…?" Her heart was beating extremely fast.

"I did say a few things to you, I didn't mean. I still am not apologizing, but I need you to know, that I shouldn't have said them. And I will try my best not to lose my temper again."

"That's all right, Captain." She gave him a smile. "The first fight happens sooner or later. The fact is, is that we survived it."

"I suppose so," he nodded. "Well, then." He turned to the telescope and she left to answer the call of one of her children.

Suddenly he froze as a new thought washed over him. _First fight?_ _Wasn't that a term that people in a relationship used after the blissfulness of a honeymoon? Good God, If the first couple months had been a honeymoon, what could they expect in the following ones? _He couldn't wait to find out.


	5. Hero Today, Gone Tomorrow

**HERO TODAY, GONE TOMORROW**

**By Kathy**

_**Captain Gregg becomes upset when he finds out that his former commander, Captain Horatio Figg is to be named town hero and a statue of his likeness is going to be placed in the town square. He knows his former commander is one of the biggest cowards he has ever known. It is an uphill battle for the Captain to expose Figg, as there are no records, and Carolyn cannot change the article she is writing about Figg without 'concrete' evidence.**_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

The members of the Schooner Bay Historical Society left one by one until Carolyn was the only left standing beside the resting place of Horatio Figg. She couldn't help but giggle at the reactions of the group at seeing the epitaph on the departed Captain's tombstone.

"Most likely was the first time he had ever run in his life." Daniel Gregg appeared at her side, a huge grin on his face. "I imagine once he got started he ran straight to Washington D.C. I can almost see his lamb chop sideburns waving in the wind right now."

Carolyn's giggles exploded into a fit of laughter; the more she tried to compose herself the harder it was to stop. She finally took a deep breath and tried to look serious, which made the laughter start again. It didn't help that the Captain was now laughing, too.

"Stop that." She managed between giggles. "I'm trying to say something."

Finally they both were able to stop, but the feeling of giddiness was still in the air.

"Captain, did you know what was written on the tombstone all this time?"

"I will confess to you Madam, I did not. But when I saw it carved there, I knew the only way you would believe me was for you to see it yourself. You seemed so dead set on me being wrong that I had to find a way to prove to you I was indeed right!"

"I am sorry, Captain," she began. "I should have believed you. I'm not even sure why I didn't. I guess, I figured you were bit prejudiced and well, maybe just a little forgetful?"

"I have been wrong a few times in my life, not that you will hear me admit that again. And I have also been known to fits of forgetting, usually conveniently arranged," he grinned.

"I'm sure." Her grin matched his.

"But, Madam, I promise you, one never forgets the sight of his Commander in the middle of a war, taking off like a bat out of hell and leaving us there like little lost lambs. Few of us had ever seen combat, and without a leader we suddenly felt very afraid. It was only the grace of God and a lot of ingenuity that got us through it."

"I'd daresay, that much of that ingenuity came from you." Even though she didn't know why, she blushed.

"Let's walk." He reached out his arm as though to put it around her, turning it into a forward gesture. She nodded and they started down the path to Gull Cottage.

"I am sorry,' she said again. "It's just that even though I know that you are spirit and a very forceful one at that." She stopped to smile and he pulled on his ear. "I do forget at times that you were a man — a man with real emotions, needs, wants, fears, and happiness. I know, intellectually, that you were there, but sometimes emotionally I forget that you were a real person."

"Understood, Mrs. Muir," he nodded. "I confess I might feel the same way if our roles were reversed."

They walked the rest of the home in silence, until right before reaching the gates of the cottage.

"Of course they wouldn't have had any problems if they had picked me as their hero," he said solemnly.

"And why not?" Carolyn tilted her head to look him in the eye.

"Because Madam, you forget, I'm perfect."

"How could I possibly forget that?!"

"Very clumsy of you."

"Oh of course…"

XXX

It was later that night that Carolyn coerced the Captain into telling her a story, (it hadn't taken that much arm twisting though) when a small knock came at the parlor door.

"He should have been in bed, hours ago," he growled. "He is becoming as spoiled as flounder in the sun." Hearing the boy's statement that the statue should have been of Captain Gregg, Daniel's heart swelled with fondness for him. "Fine lad, Mrs. Muir," he praised, after Jonathan had gone back upstairs.

She could only laugh.

It was a nice sound.


	6. Vanessa

**VANESSA**

**By Mary**

_**A young woman, Vanessa Peekskill, turns up in Schooner Bay with some old love letters from Captain Gregg to her great-great-grandmother, who was also named Vanessa. The Captain finds himself falling for her, as he did for her ancestor in the 1840s. **_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

"Don't you have any respect for the privacy on one's mail?" Carolyn reached for the letter in Daniel Gregg's hand, but he held it away from her.

"As you had for mine?"

Chagrined, she nodded. "All right, you have a point. We'll respect each other's privacy."

"Agreed, Mrs. Muir…" He started to tuck the paper in his pocket. "And now, if you'll excuse me…"

"Captain?" She pointed to his hand, "My letter?"

"Oh, yes, of course, how silly of me." He handed the letter and envelope to Carolyn, folded, and watched, fingering his ear, as she opened the missive.

"_My Dear Mrs. Muir…"_ she read aloud. _"The Schooner Bay General Store announces a sale…?"_ Carolyn grimaced and walked away, hearing his smug voice say as he dematerialized:

"Goodnight, Mrs. Muir…"

XXX

The next day was Saturday, and Carolyn told her 'crew' at the breakfast table, that she and Candy were going to Keystone to shop for tennis shoes for Candy a new pair of pumps for herself.

"I'm sorry to be away on a Saturday morning, Martha, but it can't be helped," she shrugged slightly. "The general store has nothing in Candy's size right now, and you know how hard my feet are to fit…"

"Not a problem," the housekeeper answered, "I have an oven to clean, and I'm still trying to finish re-papering the pantry shelves. You can't help with that, anyway."

"Groovy," Jonathan nodded. "So I can go outside and play with… uhm, play?"

"I'm afraid not, pal," Carolyn smiled at her small son. "You have homework to finish, don't you?"

"But Mom, it's Saturday!"

"I know, honey, but Sunday afternoon is the church picnic. We're going to be gone all day, which means you won't have time for any homework tomorrow. Get it done now, and I can check it when I get back."

"I got mine done last night," Candy said, smugly.

Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"Aw, gee…"

"I'll be glad to help…" Daniel Gregg, said, fading in, audible and visible to Carolyn Muir only, at the same time Martha said:

"I'll check it afterwards."

"You don't have to…" she started.

"I don't have to do my homework? Cool!" Jonathan shouted, but Carolyn shook her head.

"I was taking to the Ca… to Martha." She glanced toward her resident ghost, now standing just in back of her housekeeper. "That would be fine," she said, correcting herself.

Martha gave her a curious look, but Carolyn, eager to escape any more questions and protests, took the napkin from her lap, placed it by the side of her plate, and glanced toward her daughter. "Are you ready, sweetie?"

Candy nodded, and ten minutes later, the two were gone.

XXX

The house was quiet for a while after the departure of Carolyn and Candy. Jonathan, as requested, started his homework, and Martha her housework. Daniel Gregg took the opportunity to use the telescope in "his" cabin, aka: Carolyn's bedroom, which he much preferred over using his hand-held telescope. All was right with the world…

"Captain? A small voice broke into his reverie. He turned to see Jonathan standing in the doorway.

"Well, now, lad! Are you all done with your homework, then?"

The boy shook his blonde head. "Almost. Can you help me get something down from the shelf in Mom's closet? It's too high for me and I can't reach."

"Jonathan, you need to get your homework done… not play in here."

"It is for my homework."

"Hmm?"

"I need something in Mom's closet for it though," Jonathan insisted, heading for the closet and opening the door.

"What, pray tell?

"That." The boy pointed to a large book… album really, on a shelf.

"Hmm…" Daniel Gregg picked up the volume. "What is this, and why do you need it?"

"Haven't you seen one of those, Captain? It's a photo album. Mom has a whole bunch of pictures of us in there… you know, so she can look at them when she wants, 'cept she hasn't for a long time. I need a couple for our school project. Everyone is supposed to bring in pictures of their family. So I need to bring in a picture of Mom and Candy."

"I see," the seaman nodded. "And you are sure that your mother won't mind that you take the photographs?"

"It's only for Monday," Jonathan tried to explain. "Mrs. Smith is going to make copies of them, and then we cut them out and put them in a mural on the wall for back to school night. I'll bring them back Tuesday afternoon. I asked Mom about it yesterday. You weren't here, but she said it would be all right. I guess she forgot to tell you."

"No reason for her to…" the Captain answered, thinking about how preoccupied he had been with Vanessa for the last day or two. "All right Jonathan… let's sit here…" He gestured to a small leather covered sofa. "You can pick out a few of them, and then I will put the album back, all right?"

The boy nodded. "And I can show them to you at the same time. That'll be neat!"

Smiling at Jonathan's enthusiasm, the two settled on the couch, and the boy started flipping pages randomly and pointing at photos.

"There's Candy – that's from last year. She isn't smiling because she is missing her front teeth… There's Grandpa and Grandma… my Mom's mom and dad. They're in those funny clothes 'cause they just got done horseback riding… Here's Scruffy… we took that picture the day we got him from the pound… oh, and those two women are PTA ladies she knew in Philadelphia…" He flipped further back in the book. "Here's Candy when she was really little… and here I am when I was a baby…" he flipped back another page and suddenly, there, in front of the seaman, was a sepia-tone, 8x10 photo of Carolyn Muir. She was wrapped in a photographer's drape, her hair was longer, upswept from her beautiful face, and she stared off into the distance, not directly into the camera. _How can one woman can look ethereal, angelic, enchanting, maddeningly ravishing and… and… come hither…_ ? he thought_. Beautiful… just beautiful…_

"That's Mommy," Jonathan said. "She's really pretty in that one. It's my favorite, I think." He turned the page again, and the smiling face of a handsome, blonde man stared back at him.

"That's Dad," Jonathan said. "He died when I was three. I don't remember him very much."

"I see…" Captain Gregg answered, as he continued staring at the good-looking face. It was a rugged face… but a friendly, honest one. A small pang of jealously shot through him.

"Grandpa Muir says I look like him," Jonathan continued. "Do you think so, Captain?"

"It's a fine-looking face, to be sure," the seaman answered, carefully. "You look like him a bit around the eyes and chin, but I think you favor your mother, more."

"Except her eyes are green," Jonathan shrugged, and flipped back toward the front of the book. Selecting several of the more recent photos of his mother, Candy, Martha and Scruffy, Jonathan told the Captain he was finished, and asked if the seaman could put the album back where it came from.

"I'll be done in about ten minutes, Captain," he announced. "Then you promised you would show me your ditty box… I've been waiting and waiting to see the stuff inside. I don't know what ditty is."

"Hmm?"

"I'm almost done, Captain. I'll be ready to play with you soon."

"Fine…" the seaman answered, only half hearing him. "You do that, lad. Then if you like, I can show you some things from my ditty box… would you like that?"

"Uh… yeah, Captain."

XXX

The rest of the morning passed peacefully. Carolyn and Candy returned home, satisfied with their purchases, and that evening, before supper, the seaman and the lady of Gull Cottage took a stroll along the beach.

Late that night, Daniel Gregg looked in on his sleeping crew to assure himself that all was well, and then retired to the widow's-walk to start his nightly vigil, but the face of Robert Muir haunted him.

_What kind of a man was he?_ The spirit wondered. _Had he and Carolyn been happy? Did Muir love the beautiful woman sleeping in his bed as she should be loved? Was he faithful to her? Is Carolyn grieving for him, still? How did they meet? How long were they together? How did the late Mr. Muir meet his end? Was it honorable? Is he haunting somewhere? Surely not… I can't ask her… Blast!_

The Seaman rubbed his beard, remembering their comments to each other the night before about respecting each other's privacy, and idly wondered if he would ever receive an answer to his unasked questions…


	7. The Real James Gatley

**THE REAL JAMES GATLEY**

By Mary

_**An antiques expert and his wife want the James Gatley barometer in Gull Cottage and offer Claymore Gregg $2,000 for it. The Captain forbids the deal, but Claymore, unable to turn down that kind of money, has a cheap copy made and secretly exchanges it for the original. The Captain, however, aware of Claymore's trick, changes it back, which leads the couple to have Claymore put in jail for selling them a fake.**_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

"I was only returning the buh…buh…barometer…" Claymore stuttered, quickly backing away from Carolyn.

"How in the world did you get it?" she asked, astounded.

"Well, I gave Mr. Fenwick back his money…"

Carolyn blinked. Claymore and his money were NOT easily parted.

"And he was willing to return the barometer?"

"Um-hum… I had him for false arrest if he didn't," Claymore said, with a shrug.

"Very clever of you."

"And as a consolation, I… Well, I let him have the imitation… at cost… a hundred dollars!" Claymore went on, smugly.

"You let him have the imitation, did you? Blockhead! Don't you recognize the imitation when you see it?" the Captain appeared, growling.

"What??? Oh no! Oh, this isn't fair! They'll be leaving town! Ohhhh!" Looking horrified, Claymore exited the foyer of Gull Cottage and was soon driving down Bay Road.

"It's amazing how much it looks like the real James Gatley…" Carolyn started, touching the barometer on the wall gently.

"It is the real James Gatley… I wouldn't have anything else hanging on that bulkhead," Daniel Gregg said, keeping his face straight.

"But…" Then a look of understanding crept over Carolyn's face and the seaman grinned back at her. "Ohhhh…" she said, starting to giggle, and Daniel Gregg's hearty laugh joined hers.

XXX

The next day was Saturday, and Carolyn and Jonathan headed to town for a little clothes shopping, while Candy and Martha stayed behind at Gull Cottage. They had barely started, though when Carolyn felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Deke Tuttle and Norrie Coolidge.

"Good morning, Norrie, Deke… what can I do for you?"

"'Mornin, Miz. Muir. Ya think we could talk to you for twenty minutes, half an hour, mebbie?" Mr. Coolidge asked.

"Uhm… I'm sort of busy right now… Jonathan and I are…"

"I know its Saturday, and you're shopping…" Deke cut in, "…but it's important. We haven't wanted to… that is, we haven't been able to make it out to Gull Cottage. Please?"

"But what is it about?" she queried, "Surely not a writing assign…"

Norrie shook his head. "No… we want to talk to you for a bit about the statue project that Miss Grover abandoned. Captain Gregg was our first choice… but we need to pick your brain a mite about fund raising, publicity, and so on."

Deke nodded. "The city is in for some of the cost, but seein' as we have lost Miss Grover's funding…"

"The Captain is going to get a statue?" Jonathan started hopping up and down. "Boy, is he ever gonna be…"

"How exciting!" Carolyn interrupted her son, and Jonathan got the point immediately. "I'd be glad to talk to you." She glanced around. "I don't want to leave Jonathan in here alone, though…"

"Claymore's office is just across the street," Norrie volunteered, "And I know he is in there. Betcha he would keep an eye on him for a bit."

Carolyn grinned. The last time she had seen her landlord, he had been hi-tailing it down the road, hoping to catch up with the Fenwicks.

"I suppose he would," she nodded. _I don't think he dare say no, considering his recent behavior!_ she thought to herself, "If Claymore says he is free, I am all yours, gentlemen."

XXX

"So watcha doing?" Jonathan asked the landlord. He was sitting on a chair in front of Claymore's large desk, tossing his baseball up in the air, and catching it.

"Working," Claymore sighed. "Must you do that?"

"What?"

"The baseball."

"I don't have anyone else to play catch with, unless you want to."

"No, I don't. I'm busy. Besides, I don't feel like it."

"Why not?"

"I'm depressed."

"What's that?"

"Unhappy."

"Why? It's Saturday!"

"How I feel has nothing to do with what day of the week it is."

"But you don't have to work unless you want to, right? I mean you work all week. You could take Saturday and Sunday off, like the teachers do."

"I think they would laugh if they heard you say that, kid. Teachers work on the weekends, just not at school."

"Oh." The boy paused for a moment. "If you aren't sad because you have to work, why are you, then?"

"You wouldn't understand…" Claymore sighed again.

"Maybe not, but you might feel better if you talk to someone. That's what Mom says."

"You won't want to hear. It concerns Captain Spooky."

"You better not let him hear you say that, or you WILL be sad! What did you do?"

"ME? How do you know it wasn't Captain Gregg that did something?"

"Because he said that when something goes wrong, it's your fault."

"Sheesh! That guy will not give me a break!"

Jonathan frowned. "Does this have to do with you taking his barometer?"

"It's NOT his barometer…" Claymore broke off fearfully and glanced around his office. "At least not technically… it's MY barometer. I inherited it."

"That's not what Captain Gregg says, he said you were a soft-bellied sneak-thief, and…"

"I have no doubt what he said. All I know is that vindictive bully-ghost cost me $2,150.00!"

Jonathan's eyes grew wide. "No wonder you're mad! How did he do that?"

"Simple…" the landlord paused. "He told you everything?"

"The Captain told me you tried to sell his barometer, and make a fake one to do it."

Claymore nodded. "And that's how he made me lose so much money."

"I don't get it."

The landlord started counting on his fingers. "I paid fifty-dollars to Deke to make the pretend barometer. Then I had to give Mr. and Mrs. Fenwick back their $2000.00 when they told me the one I sold them was a fake, and then… then, when the Captain made me think I had accidentally sold them the real one, when I thought I was selling them the… reproduction, after the trial was over, I had to give them back their hundred dollars. So, see? Captain Gregg cost me $2150.00, and that's why I'm depressed."

Jonathan shook his head. "I think you've got it wrong, Mr. Gregg."

"Nonsense… I'm not wrong… not in front of a little kid, anyway. Captain Gregg is the only one who thinks I am always wrong."

Jonathan shook his head again. "Mom says I am not supposed to correct my elders, Sir, but you are. Something isn't right with your arithmetic. 'Member I told you when we did our treasure hunt that I am really good at it?" The boy reached for a blank memo pad and a pencil on Claymore's desk. "Mrs. Smith says I'm best at story problems. This one's easy." He leaned over the big desk, and started to write. In a very few minutes, he looked up, smiling. "You didn't spend $2150.00 – you only spent fifty dollars!"

Claymore shook his head. Fifty, isn't "only," child, but how do you figure?"

"You forgot to put 'money in'," Jonathan said, holding up the tablet. "See? The tourists gave you $2000.00 - you gave it back. They paid you $100.00 for the fake barometer - you gave it back. You paid Mr. Tuttle $50 to make the fake, and you DIDN'T get that back. So see? You spent fifty dollars!" The boy tapped the table thoughtfully. "Guess that's why Mom and Martha say cheaters never prosper."

Claymore made a face, but then smiled. "Okay. I see what you mean… but I wasn't cheating… and I really got to think of all that money as mine while I had it!"

"But you feel better, now?" Jonathan asked.

"Uh-huh. A lot better."

"And you still have the pretend barometer," Jonathan pointed to the piece, leaning against a wall. "You could hang it up. It would look nice in your office."

Claymore rolled his eyes. "Yeah, even if it reminds me of all the money I could have had. But thank you, Jonathan. I think I can handle my… uhm… disappointment now. Say – would you like a Popsicle? I could run next door and get you one. They cost a nickel, so you can't expect this again, but just this time – because you made me feel better."

"That would be neat, Mr. Gregg. Thanks!"

No sooner was the landlord out the door, than the Captain appeared.

"Hello, lad."

"Hi, Captain!" Jonathan looked up at his hero.

"Your mother should be here to collect you in a few minutes. I just thought I would let you know. What have you been up to with that simpleton, Claymore?"

"Aww, nothing much."

"Really?"

"Yeah… I was just giving Claymore an arithmetic lesson."

Raising a bushy eyebrow, the ghost shook his head slightly. There were some things about mortals he would never understand…


	8. Uncle Arnold, the Magnificent

**UNCLE ARNOLD, THE MAGNIFICENT**

By Mary

_**Carolyn's Uncle Arnold, a traveling salesman, visits Gull Cottage for a few days. The kids want him to stay for Candy's birthday party the coming weekend to show off his magic tricks and jokes, but they change their mind when Arnold's jokes become repetitious and fear the party will be a flop with him there. The Captain teaches Jonathan that people should not be discarded just because you are bored with them. **_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

"_Goodbye, Uncle Arnold…" Daniel Gregg said softly, from the balcony outside the captain's cabin, "…and good luck!"_

XXX

That evening, an hour after Candy and Jonathan had been bedded down for the night, Carolyn looked up from her seat in the living room, where she had been half-watching TV and mending a stack of Jonathan's socks. She stretched her fingers, shook her head and winced slightly.

"I'm about all in for the night, Martha. I think I'll go outside and get a breath of fresh air, and then head for bed."

"I'm tired, too," the housekeeper nodded. "Birthdays, for children, that is, are fun, but a lot of work. By the way, thanks for helping me clean up, yesterday, Mrs. Muir."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Carolyn smiled. "Go on to bed, if you want to. I can lock up."

"Thanks," Martha covered a yawn. "You're sure? I can…"

"Quite sure," Carolyn nodded, and a few minutes later, Martha was off to her room and Carolyn had stepped out onto the verandah. Captain Gregg materialized into view.

"Good evening, Mrs. Muir."

"Good evening, Captain," she smiled up at him, "It's a lovely night, isn't it? The stars are so clear, for this time of year. No clouds."

"It is, indeed, but it is far too chilly for you to be out here without a heavy sweater, or coat," he answered, and a moment later Carolyn's favorite sweater had settled about her shoulders.

"Thank you," She looked up at him again. "For this – and everything you did yesterday. I won't call what you did for Uncle Arnold sweet, because I know you hate it when I say that, but helping him was… a very honorable thing to do."

"You're welcome," the ghost answered gruffly, "He needed a bit of assistance, didn't he? But it was for you, my dear. I couldn't bear to see you so distressed on his behalf." Carolyn nodded, and tore her eyes away from the seaman's intense look, to glance up at the night sky once more. "Tell me, my dear…" the ghost went on, "Jonathan's birthday was November 4th and Candy's was yesterday, the 9th... I take it we are done with parties for the time being?"

"For a little bit," she nodded, electing not to bring up that her own birthday was right around the corner on November 28th. "Unless you have a day you wish to celebrate any time soon?"

"No, not I," he paused, remembering fast approaching "death-day" on November 13th. (He wasn't ready to share that information, thank you.) "It was very sweet of Candy, however, to wish that Uncle Arnold could be here for all her birthdays. Do you think he will be back this time next year - maybe to celebrate with both children at once?

"I never know with my uncle," Carolyn laughed softly, pulling her sweater more tightly around her shoulders. "He's never been good at keeping a schedule. But he was saying perhaps, if he is in the Maine area, he could be here for Christmas. It would be kind of nice… my mother told me when she called to wish Candy a happy birthday that she and my dad are leaving for Europe December 15th, so Uncle Arnold might be the only family we see this year."

"I hadn't thought about you going away…" Daniel Gregg answered; dismayed at the thought 'his' family not being at Gull Cottage for the holidays. "Of course, if Uncle Arnold is coming here, I will be as amiable as I can. I'll even help him with his magic again…"

"Nothing is set in stone," Carolyn shrugged slightly. "Uncle Arnold is not the predictable type – that's why it was always a treat when he came to Philly when I was growing up. He was my funny, busy uncle… and I've missed him this last two years… too much other stuff going on to get together: Crossed paths, and all of that."

"I see," the Captain nodded. "So, tell me, dear lady, if it is not too personal, where does Uncle Arnold fit in your family? He's your uncle, the children's great-uncle…"

"It's not too personal, Captain," Carolyn grinned. "Uncle Arnold is from my father's side of the family. My father's younger brother. I have two uncles, the other being my father's older brother. My father's the middle kid. As you might have guessed, Uncle Arnold never married - or had any kids – which is really a shame, because he adores children, and is good with them, in his own way."

"Allowing for the old jokes and slightly misguided magic?" The Captain gave her a kind smile.

"Yes," she nodded. "I think my favorite story about my Uncle Arnold, though, happened when I was about seven…" she paused. "…But maybe I should save it for another time? It's getting late and you must be…" She stopped, and Daniel could see her blush in the dim light. "I forgot – you don't get tired or sleepy."

"No, but you do. If you care to postpone this?" the spirit responded, gallantly.

"No, I'd rather tell you now. You were so good about helping him." Carolyn leaned on the banister in front of them. "As I told you earlier, my Uncle Arnold is a salesman, and sells every household gadget/utility/collectable you can think of – sort of a traveling Lillian Vernon catalogue, though that isn't the name of his company - mostly in the eastern part of the United States, but I think if his boss told him one day his new territory would be… Colorado, Utah, Wyoming and New Mexico, he wouldn't fuss for a second. Anyway, I don't know how he did it, but growing up, he always seemed to show up for a visit exactly when I was missing him most." Carolyn paused, and glanced up at the night sky once more.

"And…?" the Captain pressed, gently.

"It was Thanksgiving, the year I turned seven," Carolyn went on, slowly. "Everyone gathered at my parents and my house that year… aunts, uncles, my cousins, and Uncle Arnold. I was told to be on my best behavior, to be polite and be a good hostess, especially to my cousins. Things were going along fine, but then my cousin Harriet – she is a few years older than I am - started snooping in my personal things, including a little book I was writing stories in. Harriet is the pushy type – and nosy enough for her and her sister both. Anyway, she started teasing me about them, asking: why did I write them, if I didn't have to for school, and that nobody would ever want to print them in a real magazine or book, or pay good money for them, and that they were silly."

"Well, really!" Captain Gregg interrupted, indignant for the beautiful woman in front of him, "Did the chit not know that good writers only become that way with early training and encouragement?"

"Apparently not," Carolyn smiled, "But then, Harriet has always been a little like that; nosy, and very opinionated about matters that don't concern her. Anyway, I grabbed my book from her, slugged her on the arm, did my best to stamp her foot, and ran out of the house, to my favorite spot… the glider on our front porch. I was lucky; neither my mother or father saw me manhandle Harriet, or leave the house."

"But someone else did?"

"Yes. Uncle Arnold was after me like a shot. I was sure he was going to scold, or say he was disappointed in my behavior, but he didn't. He just held me, and let me cry as long as I needed to, then let me blow my nose on the handkerchief he used for his magic tricks, and listened while I told him the whole story. Then he talked me into reading three of my stories out loud, told me I had the soul of a writer, and that one day I would be famous, and not to let anyone, or anything, especially other's opinions stand in my way." Pushing a lock of hair back from her face, she went on. "We must have been out on that porch for at least forty-five minutes, and when we came back inside, he never said a word to anyone about what happened, at least that I know of, and later on that evening, when we started playing games, you know, like charades, and whatnot, he made sure he and I were on the same team and not the team Harriet and her sister were on. So you see, Captain? In an odd way, he and I are kindred spirits. I could never do anything to hurt him, or he to me. That's why it was so awful when I realized he heard Candy and Jonathan mimicking him. My uncle is the dearest man in the world. Any time with him is time I will remember forever, because I know he won't always be here. You can NEVER count on those you love always being here…" Carolyn sniffed slightly, and then quickly, she brushed a small tear from her cheek. Daniel saw what Carolyn did, but didn't comment on the fact.

"Rest assured, my dear, if Uncle Arnold is to be at Gull Cottage for Christmas, I will stand guard morning, noon and night to make sure none of his tricks backfire."

Carolyn grinned up at the seaman. "That won't be necessary, Captain. Silly tricks and jokes are all a part of Uncle Arnold's charm. I just want to know he will be welcome."

"He will be, my dear. Rest assured. And thank you."

"For what, Captain?"

"For disclosing a small part of your life to me; it is an honor that you trust me enough to do so."

"Thank YOU for helping him."

"You are most welcome, dear lady," the ghost nodded.

Mortal and ghost stood close to each other, and looked to the stars, thinking their own thoughts for a few moments, but finally, Carolyn spoke:

"Captain, now that I have told you more about Uncle Arnold, and myself, would you answer a question for me?"

"If I am able, my dear, of course," the ghost responded, hoping her question would not be too personal.

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

_"What did you do with Uncle Arnold's rabbit?" _


	9. Way Off Broadway

**WAY OFF BROADWAY**

By Kathy

_**Claymore decides to put on a play with Mrs. Muir as his leading lady. The Captain disapproves and a mediocre play ends up a success as an unintentional comedy.**_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

Captain Gregg shook his head at what Carolyn Muir had just called him, hoping he looked disgusted. "I am not a piece of confectionery," he gruffed, which made her laugh even more than she had been doing.

"Oh, I don't know," she smiled, "I think the term fits you quite well. I mean after all, you are swe…"

"Don't say it." He held up a hand. "I can't bear to hear you say it. I am a sea captain, not a marshmallow."

"All right, if you insist." she shook her head, her face one big smile. "You are mean and frightful and would give Captain Bly a run for his money."

"Thank you," he intoned, the look on his face so serious, she started to laugh again.

"I do like that Claymore has found something that he enjoys doing though," she said, after calming down somewhat.

"Directing?"

"Yes. No, he's not good, but he does enjoy it and it..."

"Keeps him off the streets?" the Captain's eyebrows rose.

"Or away from Gull Cottage," Carolyn added.

"That, too."

Absentmindedly, she started going through the script he had handed her, reading a line here or there. "Did you really write this Captain?"

"I did."

"It's pretty good." She read some more, a beautiful smile covering her face. "Very descriptive."

"Thank you." He pulled on his ear and tried to look embarrassed. But there were very few things he wasn't good at. It's just the way it was.

"So tell me Captain…" She turned to face him better. "Just why was it, exactly, that you thought I shouldn't take the part?"

"I believe Madam, I've already relayed my reasons, all of which you ignored, I might add."

"My father didn't teach me to have my own mind for nothing," she grinned, "But, Captain, honestly… I mean you did go to plays when you were um…"

"Alive!" He thundered the word. "Why is it you have such a problem using the words dead and alive in reference to me?"

"I guess I just don't want to hurt your feelings, or think I'm making fun."

He was quiet for a moment, and then nodded. "I can understand that." He cleared his throat and Carolyn had one of those moments when she wasn't sure what to say or do. His very presence seemed to make her unsure of anything.

"I escorted a young actress around London for a spell." He volunteered. "She was a lovely thing, and I was quite fond of her."

"Was it anyone I might have heard of?" Carolyn's meter, for a hint into the Captain's personal life, rising madly.

"You very well might have," he nodded. "As a matter of fact, I'm sure you have."

She waited, holding her breath, but she realized but after a few moments knew he wasn't going to tell her. _Dead or alive, he was a typical man!_

"I never really was involved in the acting process before this," she finally said. "I did a couple of Reader's Theater's in high school, but most of my experience has been on the outside."

"I assume Reader's Theater is where you read the parts?"

"Exactly. Only you have to memorize the lines so that you look like you are reading them. I rather enjoyed it. "

"What do you mean by being on the outside?"

"I made costumes for the school plays. You know - always on hand to adjust a sleeve or a hem during the performances. I really enjoyed it. I actually like that better than acting."

"Interesting…" He drew the word out. She loved it when he trilled his words, putting an Irish spin on them.

"I can see you doing that, actually." And he could picture it easily in his mind. She would be sitting on a stool, needle and thread at the ready, her hair falling around her face, her concentration on the repair, maybe humming. He liked it.

"I guess I better get back to writing my article." She got from her seat beside him and stretched her arms over her head. "If I can get this one tonight and I can start on the one about the seagull migrations tomorrow."

"I wish you luck, Madam," he said, getting up before she did as a true gentleman always did.

As she opened the door, she thought she heard him say something but wasn't sure… Because, surely, it was much to intimate to come out of his mouth. But still, it was there in her head and she held it to her heart.

"_I didn't want you to take the part because I didn't want to miss you."_


	10. The MonkeyPuzzle Tree

**THE MONKEY PUZZLE TREE**

By Kathy

_**Mrs. Muir decides that Gull Cottage is in need of a little redecorating, and the Captain reluctantly agrees to let Mrs. Muir replace his old furniture. But when she has his favorite monkey-puzzle tree chopped down, it is too much for him and for a while, it seems that he has left the house for good. This episode is inspired by an event that takes place in the original GAMM novel.**_

**_GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM_**

The grandfather clock sounded out the ten o'clock hour, as did they ship's timepiece over the mantle in the main cabin. And as she had done every night for the last week, Mrs. Muir rose from her work, pulled a jacket from the closest, zipping it tight, and headed outside.

He watched tonight as he had every night, his curiosity threatening to get the best of him. Despite the increasingly cold nights, she hadn't missed one in the last seven days. She always went out the front, paused on the flagstones to look up at the sky and then headed for the monkey-puzzle tree. She would look it over, touching it gently with her fingertips and if he wasn't mistaken, she was actually holding a one-side conversation with it.

Tonight, he noticed, she watered it, and he heard her say something about it having taken root nicely. It was true, it was a fine looking tree and seemed as though it had always been there instead of a merely a week. It was so hard to imagine everything that had transpired just seven days ago.

She was so absorbed in her work, he became bolder in his closeness and when she did see him, she gave a little cry and then a giggle. He knew her well enough now to know she was going to say something about thinking she had seen a ghost - and she didn't disappoint him.

"I never realized that the monkey puzzle was in the pine family," she turned to face him. "I read that it bears a cone. I think that's interesting."

"It's the shape of the leaves, and the way they grow, that make them special," he nodded. "And I don't think I've ever seen two exactly alike."

She turned to put the hose away, but he leant her a touch of his ghostly abilities, and wrapped it securely around its home. "I need to have Ed winterize the faucets," she said, more to herself than to him. "I never really know just how much there was to running and maintaining a house on this end. There is so much they don't teach you in home economics, that you really do need to know," she laughed.

He couldn't help but grin, it seemed she always caused him to laugh or smile any more. It felt good to do so again, and have a reason for it.

"Captain…" she said, in a low voice, almost a whisper.

"Yes, Mrs. Muir?"

"Tell me about finding the tree… your tree?"

"We had an unexpected layover in Santiago, and my mates and I were anxious to see the city. We had a grand time, eating at the best restaurants, buying trinkets and whatnot for our families at home. We found several lovely senoritas…"

"Do I want to hear this part?" she asked; her face one huge grin.

"You asked for the story, you will hear it all," he pretended to thunder. "We found several lovely senoritas," he began again, "and they showed us all the delights of their home."

"In more ways then one, I'm sure."

"Stop interrupting me, woman."

"Go on."

"Thank you. So, as I was saying, it was one of them that introduced me to the wondrous monkey-puzzle tree. The moment I saw it, I had to have it. I could think of nothing else."

"I'm sure that went over well with the uh… what's her name." Carolyn rolled her eyes.

"Madam, please." His eyes twinkled down at her. "She told me of a place where I might purchase one, and so the day before we left, I went and looked them over, picking the heartiest one. I carefully wrapped it in burlap and laid it in a far corner, checking on it daily and watering when needed. I almost didn't end up with it. During a storm, the captain wanted to jettison it as unnecessary, and another time a drunk tried to use it as his bed. And let me tell you Madam, he received the surprise of his life."

"But he never got drunk again."

"Finally we made it to New York, where it stayed in a boarding house with me until everything was made straight, then aboard a another smaller ship to Schooner Bay. A full three months later, I finally brought the poor thing up to my property and planted it where it stood until last week. It was brown and droopy and I feared for its life, but I planted it carefully, watered it often and watched over it. In time it grew green and tall. It was here before the house was; only the foundation had been laid when I planted the tree. It was my constant companion as we built the walls. And it was a good theft deterrent, hard for anyone to get to the windows even then."

"I'm sorry, "she said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I wish I had known."

"Don't grieve, my dear." He wished he had a handkerchief to give her. "It's all in the past, and I do mean that."

"I should have asked - I was just so angry, and a little scared."

"I know," he said gently, "I know."

"I'm afraid my story isn't near as wonderful," she shook her head. "A friend of mine from college has a greenhouse in Boston, and I asked him where I might find a monkey-puzzle tree. He gave me the name of a nursery and I picked the one that looked like it could withstand the car ride from there to here." She shrugged.

"Another one to stand vigil over us, to be our constant companion," he said gently.

She wiped her eyes and smiled. "It's getting colder, I think I'm going to go in and get a cup of coffee. Would you like to join me?"

"Are we putting brandy in our coffee?"

"I think we might."

"Then I would love to."

They walked to the front door, he walking to match her stride.

"Did you have a name for it?"

'The tree?"

"Yes, like Homer, or Jose, or something?"

"Don't be absurd Madam. It was a tree - not a dog."

"I think I'll call this one Monty."

"Woman, you are you going to drive me insane!"

"I'm working on it."

He hoped she would continue to do so for many years to come.


	11. Captain Gregg's Whiz Bang

**CAPTAIN GREGG'S WHIZ BANG**

**By Kathy**

_**Mrs. Muir needs money to pay for a new plumbing system, but cannot think of any new stories, so the captain literally becomes a ghost writer. She tones down his risque story, but before it is mailed to **__**Feminine View**__**, in Boston, the Captain puts the racy stuff back in and the magazine publisher, Ellsworth Gorden, loves it. The story gives Carolyn a bit of a reputation in town and the captain comes to her rescue when the wolfish publisher tries to get too familiar with her.**_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

_She took off his boots? _Carolyn turned to her right side and punched her pillow in, trying to scrunch it to fit her head. This was quickly becoming a night of little sleep and she could ill afford it. She had an article for _Portland_ _Pastimes_ to write, on a day trip to Schooner Bay and miracle of miracles, _Feminine View_ wanted another one as well — on how women's reading habits had changed over the years. That one would take at least a day or two of research at the Bangor Library, but would be well worth it.

_She took off his boots? _There had to be more to the story than that — Which of course there was. And she didn't want to think about it, except for the fact that she was dying to know. She had told him she would remove his boots for a reward of coming to her rescue. It wasn't that she couldn't have handled the scoundrel, she had fought off more lecherous men then he had been, but she loved the fact that Captain Gregg had actually done so.

It was completely sweet and utterly heroic and it thrilled her to think he would do that for her. He had become visible to a human and he had done so willingly. And if truth were told she had enjoyed watching him. _If he had been that dashing today, imagine what he must have looked like in a brawl _—_ no shirt, his hair curly from the sweat of his exertions, his face determined, muscles flexing... _

_You've gone too far now, Carolyn. Stick to the facts, not the details. Once you start thinking about him that way, there is no turning back. You know how you are. Just remember that he is a ghost, a spirit, a poltergeist, not a man. But, oh, he used to be a man. A man that let a young attractive woman take off his boots..._

To distract herself she picked up the magazine article with her... um.... HIS story in it and started to read. _It was good,_ she thought, as she finished the first page. It reminded her very much of the Harlequin romances her aunt brought her back from Canada. But it was even better than that, as it was well written and had sexual tension. Not to mention plenty of playing pirate by the esteemed Captain Joshua Webster. Finishing the story, she placed the magazine back on the bedside table and tried once more to find sleep. But it just wasn't there. Thinking of Captain Gregg in such a romantic light was hard on her nocturnal habits.

Carolyn flipped over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. So because he had saved her life and more importantly, she was sure for the time, the girl's virginity — he received the saved virtue as a gift. Something seemed wrong about that equation, but she wasn't sure what at the moment. She would have to think about that later, when she was more awake.  
Back to the left side, she took the pillow out from under her head, and cradled it against her. She always liked holding something while she slept — a stuffed animal, her beloved dog Amos, a child, a pillow, a man... _She took off his boots?_

It was sweet of him to care about her reputation. She supposed she didn't really care, but she hadn't appreciated all the calls. _Maybe if they had left their names. Carolyn, what are you thinking?_

She put the pillow back under her head and turned to the right side. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _1, 2, 3, 4, 5_, — her breath was getting heavier. _6, 7, 8, 9, 10 _— her body was going limp. _11, 12, 13, 14, 15 _— Blast that Mrs. Coburn for bringing the kids home just when she had. If she hadn't maybe she could have carried through with her offer of taking off his boots. But it would have been literally, _not_ in the way he was using it. _Would his boots even come off?_

_...16, 17, 18,_ — There was so much she still needed to learn about spirits. _Oh, a nice glass of vodka would be good right now, especially if it was pored over crushed ice and had a splash of cranberry juice._ She could almost taste it. _Not that kind of spirit, Carolyn. Now go to sleep. _

_...19, 20. _She felt the sleep take over and her body surrendered. It was nice to finally summit. Sleep, she loved sleep…

_She took off his boots?_


	12. Madeira, My Dear?

**MADEIRA, MY DEAR**

**By Mary**

_**The Captain invites Mrs. Muir for a glass of Madeira and an hour of conversation his wheelhouse (the attic) Tuesday at 4 p.m., but her busy family life means she has trouble getting there every time it is arranged.**_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

**Tuesday Afternoon, Four-ten p.m.**

Jonathan Muir hurtled through the front door of Gull Cottage, dropped his schoolbooks on the table in the foyer and made a beeline for the upstairs. "No cookies for me, Martha!" he called over his shoulder. "Me and the Capt… I mean, I've got stuff to work on…"

"Homework?" Martha asked, "It can wait until you've had your after school snack, at least!"

"Nope! Don't have any! Substitute teacher today! I'm working on my ship! See you later!" the boy answered, still ascending the stairs.

"Okay, but don't come to me in an hour, looking for something to eat." She shook her head. "It will be too close to dinner, then."

Not really acknowledging her, Jonathan landed on the second level of the house, and made tracks for the stairs to the attic. When he reached the door, however, he stopped in surprise, for instead of it being open, the Spirit of Gull Cottage waiting for him; the door was shut. Raising a hand to knock (he had been brought up that closed doors ALWAYS meant you should knock first) he heard the soft rumble of Captain Gregg's voice:

"Have I told you how enchanting you look this afternoon, my dear?"

"Thank you, Captain." There was no mistaking his mother's voice. She laughed slightly, and he could tell she was pleased with the ghost's comment. "But you stopped your story. You were telling me about the time you and your shipmates were battling the natives?"

The boy tried the latch on the old door, but it didn't move a centimeter. It was quite firmly locked. Sadly, Jonathan lowered his hand and slowly turned to make his way back down the stairs to the second level, and his bedroom. Reaching it, he slipped inside, and flopped on his bed, miserably.

"Guess Captain Gregg doesn't want to play with me anymore," he muttered to himself. "He'd rather play with Mom!"

**Wednesday: Four-Thirty p.m.**

Daniel Gregg glanced at the clock on the attic wall and frowned. _Four thirty… where the devil is Jonathan? _he wondered, _He was supposed to be here a half hour ago. He'll never have his new model completed for his Cub Scout project at this rate._ Rubbing his beard, he wondered if he should go check in on him. _It wouldn't hurt,_ his thoughts went on. _Maybe he is stumped on a homework question or something of that sort..._ and a moment later, he had dematerialized and re-materialized in the nursery Jonathan shared with his sister, but to his surprise, the lad was not there. The spirit then focused himself, and materialized in the Master Cabin, but the only occupant was Carolyn Muir, busily typing away.

"Excuse me, my dear…" he materialized.

The lady of Gull Cottage jumped as she heard the spirit speak.

"Do you HAVE to startle me like that, Captain? she answered, but gave him a warm smile, despite her words.

"Well, I can't ring a bell as I materialize, but I will try to think of some way to announce myself," the spirit grinned.

"What did you need, Captain?" Carolyn asked, removing her hands from the typewriter keyboard.

"I was wondering if you had seen Jonathan."

Her eyebrows went up. "I thought he was with you… working on his ship."

"No. I haven't seen him since Martha drove the children into school this morning. I said goodbye – but come to think of it, I don't remember him answering me. Of course, depending on the proximity of Candy and Martha, sometimes he can't…" The ghost frowned slightly. "But I was under the impression we were working on his ship this afternoon…"

"It must have slipped his mind," Carolyn answered, her eyes drifting back to the page she had been typing. "Why don't you go look for him? Martha said her stuffed chicken got off to a slow start, and dinner will be a tad late tonight. You still have time to work on his model, if you can both get it moving."

"Aye-aye, dear lady," the Captain nodded, and vanished.

XXX

Daniel concentrated, and then focused his mind, and suddenly it became very clear to him where Jonathan was, and a moment later he appeared behind the boy, where he was sitting, alone, in a cleared spot that someone had created many years ago. There were several stone seats, where one could look out at the sea… which was precisely what Jonathan Muir was doing.

"Jonathan?" the Captain spoke quietly, as not to startle the boy.

Jonathan turned around swiftly, glanced at the spirit, and then turned his back, facing the sea once more.

Puzzled, the spirit tried again. "Jonathan?"

"I heard ya," the boy answered, without turning around.

"I couldn't tell; you didn't answer me," Daniel replied quickly. "I was worried about you. Weren't we supposed to meet in the attic today to finish your ship?"

This comment netted only a shrug.

"I figured you were still BUSY," the boy answered, still not turning to face the spirit.

"Busy? No, I the only plans I had today were with…" Suddenly the spirit stopped, the full impact of the boy's words and attitude toward him sinking in. He stopped speaking for a moment, and then he went on, gently. "Jonathan, lad, it is impolite not to look at the person you are having a conversation with."

"Yeah, I guess," the boy answered, still not turning around.

"Then won't you face me? Or do I need to…" The spirit dematerialized, and rematerialized in front of the boy. "No… don't turn your back on me again, Jonathan…" The sea captain sat down on another stone bench, and stared at him, straight in the eye. "Something is bothering you, and it obviously concerns me. I believe I may have an idea, but I would like to hear what it is from you. Won't you tell me?"

Jonathan's blue eyes looked up at him.

"Can ghosts read minds? Is that why you know?"

"I didn't say I knew, I said I might have an idea. But I would rather YOU tell me what is troubling you."

"Uh… erm…" the boy stammered, and Daniel counted to twenty, waiting for the boy to continue. Finally Jonathan blurted out: "I WANTED to work on my model yesterday afternoon… but you were in the attic, and the door was closed and _locked_… and you were with MOM!" Pausing, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and then continued, his voice wavering slightly. "You were telling her a story, and you two sounded like you were having a good time… without me," he added softly.

"I see," Daniel answered. "And…?"

"And… that's all," Jonathan stammered.

"I don't believe it is, lad."

"Just that you and Mom sounded like you were having fun. And you never told ME any story about fighting natives…"

"So you were eavesdropping?" the ghost pressed, wondering what else the boy had heard.

"No – I just heard that when I was standing at the door. But I figured you were having a good time without me, so I went back downstairs again. Mom came back downstairs… a whole HOUR later!" he went on, his tone getting more reproachful by the word.

"So you don't think I should be… talking to your mother?"

"No… you can talk to her," Jonathan answered. "I mean, you do anyway, but, Captain, you were telling her a neat story - I thought _**I**_ was the only one you talked to and told stories to."

The ghost smiled inwardly, but kept his face grave.

"No, lad. Your mother likes my tales, and conversing with me, and I like talking, to and learning more about her, also."

"But I like your stories, too, and I love it when WE get a chance to be together… but the door to the wheelhouse was locked. I could have listened…"

Slowly but kindly, the spirit shook his head.

"No, Jonathan. Yesterday would not have been a good time for that. My appointment was with your mother."

"You've never have had one before. And we have been living here since September…"

"Actually, we have, for a month, but until yesterday, only one appointment--"

"You mean, _date_," Jonathan cut in.

"--Appointment," the ghost answered, tugging his ear, self-consciously, "… Only two, including the one yesterday, have worked out well. Your mother has been rather busy of late."

"But… the boy frowned again, "…I could have been there, too, and then you would have only had to tell the story once and…"

Captain Gregg let out a 'breath.' "No, Jonathan. Yesterday was adult time…"

"Why?"

"Because sometimes it needs to be. I am sure you will understand this more clearly when you are a little older…"

"Grownups always say that."

"Quite often, grownups "always" say things because they are true. Jonathan, adults need time together without children and children need time without adults. And everyone – you, me, your mother, your sister, Martha, even Scruffy need to be alone at times, also."

"But I would rather do everything with you…"

The spirit sighed. _Perhaps the lad's mother should be here,_ he thought. _No chance of that now…_ He turned and looked toward the sea for a moment, and then back to face Jonathan Muir.

"I suppose I could play on the swings with you every day…"

Jonathan covered his mouth and giggled.

"They're too little for you, Captain. Your feet would drag on the ground, or they would go through it, up to your knees!"

"I see. All right. Then I will sit in class with you all day."

"You want to watch me learn?

"Oh no – I would have to learn, too. You want me to do everything you do."

"But didn't you already pass second grade?"

"Yes, but you want me to do what you do. Then there is the matter of the playground… I could sit on the monkey bars and watch you climb - hang by my knees and wait for you to get to the top…"

"The jungle gym and monkey bars and swings and stuff are all too small for you, Captain. You'd have to be my size to have fun on them… and you might look a little silly, and make me laugh, and then the other kids would wonder why I was laughing at something that wasn't there… Somebody might think I was weird…"

"But you want us to do everything together. Perhaps your mother and I both need to come along and… what is that new expression? "Hang Out" with you all day long? Candy doesn't think I exist, yet, so you would have our undivided attention. There would be complete togetherness." He nodded, decidedly. "Yes, that's the ticket. "Of course, then your mother would be up all night, working, since she couldn't write while you are at school, and I would have to spend most of the night catching up my charts and journals, and whatnot…"

"No, Captain!" Jonathan cried out. "That's wrong… all wrong. Mom can't stay awake all day and all night, and I don't want you to stop doing what you do, either."

"But that's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I've changed my mind," Jonathan shook his head. "I don't think it would be good for us to always be together. You're right. Sometimes kids just need to be with kids."

"Maybe we could make some kind of arrangement?" The Captain rubbed his beard once more. "Not that your sister or Martha know, of course, but your mother and I meet for Madeira and conversation on Tuesday afternoons from four 'til five, barring complications." He grimaced slightly. "What if you and I try for Mondays and Thursdays, either in the afternoon, or evening, based on your homework and chore schedule? Would that be acceptable?"

Jonathan nodded happily.

"That would be groovy, Captain! It's a deal!"

"Good," the spirit nodded.

"I wish I could shake your hand to seal the deal," Jonathan added mournfully. "That's what grownup men do."

"So do I, lad," The spirit smiled softly, stood, and looked down at the boy he already regarded as his own, and then toward Gull Cottage, where Carolyn was waiting. "So do I."


	13. Love is a Toothache

**LOVE IS A TOOTHACHE**

_**Martha Grant starts dating the local dentist, but he turns out to be a real mama's boy.**_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

"Hello Evelyn. I'm so glad you called. I was just getting ready to pick up the phone and call you. I guess it was providential."

"Yes, I do have something to tell you, but before I start, how's Harry?"

"Oh that's wonderful! I imagine he is enjoying the extra space, even if it does just give him more room for his hunting trophies. But I've always said a man should have his own room where he can put all the things you don't dare put in any other part of the house. How's Mother?"

"I'm very glad to hear that. I know she didn't really like that doctor, and I think that was part of her problem. Maybe now that she has a new one she'll be a little more cooperative about going. What's that? He's handsome. Now, that never hurts a thing… not one thing. Give her a kiss for me would you? And slug Harry for me while you're at it."

"Well, I had a little experience with a good-looking doctor of my own, but I'm afraid the whole thing is over before it began. But I'm glad actually. Turns out he was a real Mamma's Boy. And I've taken care of enough children in my life without having to end up being married to one."

"He's the local dentist and I took a shine to him and I thought he did to me, but I think it was only because I had nice teeth. He did ask me out, and the evening got off to a good start but got progressively worse as we went on. I was going to give up on the entire thing, but Mrs. Muir thought he might be worth another try. So, she did some undercover work and invited him for dinner. And yes, his mother came along - old biddy."

"Turns out she never lets him out of her sight, tells him everything to do. I'd not be surprised if she picked out his clothes for him. And she's a vegetarian. I know, I was thinking about what Dad said, too, about not trusting people who don't eat meat. But Evelyn, she actually accused me of not having clean dishes. Me! I know - I couldn't believe it. She ran me all the way down the track and then started back. And he just stood there and let her do it! Mrs. Muir said I was supposed to consider myself the hostess so you can just bet I packed Dr. Dentist and Mama Dentist out of here in short order. It was a disaster. But I'm glad it's over and I did learn a valuable lesson. Never judge a dentist by his brand of toothpaste."

"What's that? Oh, no it wasn't Mrs. Muir's fault. She tried; the poor thing. I felt badly, too. I almost felt like I should have been trying to arrange something for her, except there is no one in this town, young enough or good enough for her."

"Don't worry about me, Evelyn. I'll find another horse, eventually, I have no doubt. In the meantime, I stay busy around her taking care of the crew."

"Yes, I have noticed I've picked up a lot of nautical talk. I'm not sure why either, must be the sea air, or something. Oh, all right, well have a good night, and the next time you talk to Tina, send her my love. Oh and could you send me Grandmother's cherry pie recipe? I have a handyman I'd love to try to it out on."


	14. Mister Perfect

**MISTER PERFECT**

**By Mary**

_**Carolyn Muir's old boyfriend sails into town on his yacht and proposes marriage, not once but several times. At first, Captain Gregg tries to discourage Thompson, but then he decides to help them get together.**_

_**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**_

It was after midnight when Carolyn returned from taking her former suitor, Blair Thompson, back to his yacht. After bidding Martha, (who had been napping on the couch, waiting for her employer, and keeping an ear out for the kids, just in case,) goodnight, and then locking up, Carolyn peeked inside the nursery, where Candy and Jonathan appeared to be sleeping soundly, and then moved on to her bedroom, a.k.a. the Captain's Cabin. Entering, she took off her sweater and laid it over the back of a chair, and headed to her dressing table. She faced the large circular mirror and untied the decorative knot in the long strand of pearls she was wearing and watched in the mirror as Daniel Gregg appeared out of the ether.

"I trust you put Mr. Thompson safely aboard his yacht and pointed him in the right direction?" he inquired, already knowing the answer.

She nodded slightly and answered, still facing the mirror. "And I hope YOU learned a lesson from all this, Captain?"

"Oh, I did, I did…" the seaman nodded. "No more meddling for me. No more interference."

"I can count on that?" Removing the pearls, she then started to unclasp the chain of the gold locket, Blair Thompson's present, that the Captain had 'helpfully' put around her neck, earlier.

"Absolutely. In fact, I shall never again be near you unless you expressly summon me."

"You ARE reformed!" she answered, surprised, and finished removing the locket.

"Totally. Goodnight, Mrs. Muir." The ghost exited the room, through the French windows to the balcony, and as she watched in the mirror, he disappeared.

"Goodnight, Captain," Carolyn answered softly, and reached around to the back of her neck and started to unzip her dress. Suddenly, she stopped and looked around. _Is he really gone?_ she wondered; _how can I be sure?_

Picking up her nightgown at the foot of the bed, Carolyn stepped into her walk-in closet and shut the door. A few moments later, the door opened and she emerged, dressed for bed.

Shutting off the light, she removed her slippers and curled up in bed, on her right side.

"_And sleep well, Madam!"_ Daniel Gregg's voice echoed in her ears. Carolyn sat bolt upright, clutching her bedclothes around her, her heart beating wildly. A rich chuckle she swore came from the widow's-walk followed, and then silence.

"Blasted ghost!" she muttered, wishing her heart would stop pounding. When it did, a few minutes later, Carolyn once more curled up and waited for sleep to overcome her.

XXX

Ten minutes passed in total silence. Carolyn's mind began to drift. "_Sleep…"_ she sighed. "_I really need to sleep…"_ Just as she was about to lose consciousness, a small, timid knock could be heard at her bedroom door. Carolyn groaned softly. "Captain?" she whispered softly, "No more tricks tonight!" The knock came again, a bit louder. "The Captain can't knock!" Carolyn whispered. "What the…?" Suddenly, she was out of bed, on her feet, at the door, and opening it. Looking down, she beheld the almost tearful, blue-green-eyed gaze of her daughter. "Candy?" she half-whispered, half-gasped, pulling her daughter into the room, and shutting the door again, "Honey, what's the matter? Did you have a bad dream?"

Candy shook her head and glanced around the room. "No, Mommy. No nightmare."

"Then what is it, honey?" Carolyn asked, perplexed, leading her daughter toward the bed, and bidding her to sit down. "Is Jonathan okay?"

"Oh yeah, he's sound asleep."

"Then… why are you awake? What's wrong?"

"Nothing…" the girl mumbled. "I just figured I better come in and see you and Mr. Thompson, and tell him I'm glad he's going to be my new dad, or something."

"New…dad?" Carolyn practically choked out the words. _"New dad?_ Candy, Blair isn't going to be your daddy!"

"But I heard him ask you to marry him," Candy protested, frowning. "More than once… on the docks, when he got here, and again when you guys were talking on the porch…"

"Candy, were you eavesdropping?"

"No, Mom," Candy flopped back on the bed, looking relieved. "I but I had just got my radio from him, and was going back inside, when I heard you two talking. I couldn't help it."

"I see…" Carolyn hid a smile. Pulling back the bedclothes, she patted the other side of the bed. "Why don't you come up by me and curl up for a little bit? It sounds like we need to get a few things cleared up."

Candy breathed a sigh of relief and scrambled up and under the covers, cuddling toward her mother, who had done the same.

"Now what possibly made you think I was going to go marry Blair tonight?" Carolyn asked lightly, trying hard to understand the inner workings of her eight-year-olds' mind.

"Well, he asked you before and… then, well our window is open, I woke up when I heard you go downstairs, outside, and Mr. Thompson was carrying his suitcases, and then I peeked from your room, and you were both in the car…" Candy paused for breath. "…And you eloped with Daddy; Grandpa said so, so I figured you were going to elope with Mr. Thompson and surprise us by being married tomorrow morning," the girl continued.

"Honey," Carolyn smiled, cuddling her daughter to her. "Just because Blair asked me, doesn't mean I would automatically say yes. He's been asking me to marry him since I was your age. Believe me when I tell you, we are NOT getting married, and if I were, you and Jonathan and Martha would be the first to know. I would never marry without you all being there!"

"So you really AREN'T going to marry Mr. Thompson?" Candy gave a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad! I don't think he would be happy here. And ... And I wouldn't be happy, either."

"Why?" Carolyn asked, stroking the blonde hair back from her daughter's forehead.

"Well, he thought Gull Cottage was a museum…" Candy began, "…I heard him say so. And he doesn't like Captain Gregg's picture, and he has to because this was the Captain's house first, and Mr. Thompson doesn't really seem to like the sea, much, getting seasick and all and he would have to if he is going to live at Gull Cottage, cause it's by the sea."

"I understand…" Carolyn nodded, and began to rub her daughter's back, softly, not mentioning that if Blair had actually been serious about marriage, most likely they would be living in Philadelphia, "Anything else?"

"Hmm…" Candy yawned. "I don't think you two look right together… I mean you don't look like you could be married… not the way Linda Coburn's dad and mom do, and he's a step-dad."

"Is that it?"

"No, nothing, I mean, maybe… no, not really."

"Candice Muir," Carolyn, giggled. "How long before you learn that I know when you say 'nothing' in that tone, it isn't 'nothing,' it's something?"

"I thought maybe you would be too sleepy to notice," Candy answered, her half-shut eyes opening again. "Its just that I don't know if I could get used to calling him 'Dad,' and calling him by his name doesn't seem right."

"I don't think he is the 'Daddy' type either," Carolyn chuckled.

"Mommy?" Candy nestled closer to her mother.

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Do you still miss Daddy? Or can you forget someone you love?"

"Oh, honey!" Carolyn shifted positions so she could look her reclined daughter straight in the eye. "I still think about your father every day. And no matter WHOM I decide to see, or date - Blair, or anyone else, nothing will ever change the way I feel about your father, and the years we were together!"

"But if you get married again…" Candy's voice remained slightly troubled. "Wouldn't the man you get married to, replace Daddy?"

"Of course not!" Carolyn hugged her daughter fiercely. "Your Daddy was a very special person… and even though I may – repeat, MAY love another man some day, no one, I mean, no one will ever fill the void your Daddy left when he died. Do you understand that?"

The little girl nodded slowly. "I do now, I think."

"Good," Carolyn nodded, and started stroking Candy's forehead softly. "I'm sorry you have been so worried, honey. Believe me when I say, that at this time, I have absolutely NO plans on getting married. I think we have been through enough changes to last for a while yet. But, sweetie, I want to thank you for being so polite to Blair while he was here, and I hope, if I DO decide to go out with anyone else, that you will be equally as polite to them."

"You're welcome," Candy nodded, her eyes closing once more. "I guess Mr. Thompson would be better than some of guys Martha and I see when we are grocery shopping. They are really kinda dorky. But I still don't think he's good enough to marry you, Mommy."

Yawning, Carolyn lifted an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yeah," Candy answered. "You need someone a lot better-looking. Not someone who looks like Daddy did; he was really handsome, but because Daddy was Daddy…and…"

"…And?"

"Someone really handsome and strong, and kind to everyone, and likes kids, both boys and girls… someone who could help me with my arithmetic and Jonathan with his spelling, and take us sailing and fishing, and come with you on back-to-school nights…"

"And…?"

"And someone Martha likes, 'cause she knows everything… and someone who has a kind voice…"

"Who?" Carolyn whispered, wondering what was going on in her daughter's mind.

"Someone like Captain Gregg, might have been, but alive," Candy mumbled, and then said no more, having fallen fast asleep.

Carolyn Muir smiled in the darkness.


	15. Dear Delusion

**DEAR DELUSION**

**By Kathy**

_**On a weekend visit, family doctor Jim Meade sees Mrs. Muir talking as though someone invisible is there. He gets her to see a psychiatrist, who convinces her that the Captain is a delusion. She tries to deny the Captain and tells Jonathan to do the same. The Captain first convinces the ******__psychiatrist_ that ghosts do exist, and then as 'Danny,' a humble fisherman, convinces the shrink that his ghost was all in his mind. This episode was unique, as it is the ONLY episode that Edward Mulhare appeared in sans the Captain's beard and moustache.

**_GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM_**

"I can't hear you. There is no such thing as humans," Captain Daniel Gregg said in a loud 'stage voice,' putting his hands over his ears. "You are nothing but a delusion."

Carolyn couldn't help but chuckle at the spirit of Gull Cottage. Okay, yes, she had been stupid to try to convince herself that he indeed did not exist. What had she been thinking? But she realized, standing there, that she was glad she had had her doubts and gone for help. Because know she knew beyond the shadow of the doubt that Daniel Gregg was real.

"A dear, dear, delusion," he said softly, looking down into her eyes.

She felt her face grow warm and she knew she was blushing. Not sure what to say, she smiled up at him. Then suddenly she found her voice. She had something very important to do.

"Captain, will you forgive me for a moment or two? I really have to find Jonathan and try to right a wrong." Before he could answer she was off like a shot. Where might her boy be on a lovely Saturday morning?

She found him out in the tool shed, looking through a box of old rusted parts. He was covered in dirt and grime and she couldn't help but smile. How could a boy be so dirty at 9:00 in the morning?

"Jonathan," she called out to him, "Can I talk to you for a minute, please?"

She hoped she didn't sound like he was in trouble, but she knew from the way he looked up at her, that was exactly what he thought.

"Sure, Mom," he said, laying down a handle of some sort. "I'm sorry but I think I did talk to Captain Gregg this morning, before I forgot to remember he doesn't exist."

Her heart went out to him and she felt the guilt of the night before rising in her stomach.

"Well, that's kind of what I want to talk to you about." She held out her hand.

"Okay." He took her hand and she got down on his level. Yes, her dress would get dirty, but that's why they paid for water, wasn't it?

"Jonathan, I was wrong when I told you that Captain Gregg doesn't exist."

"You were?" his eyes grew hopeful.

"I was," she nodded, "Very much so." She took a deep breath and went on. "I thought that I was doing right to not believe in him. And I also thought I was right to tell you not to, too. But I wasn't. Captain Gregg is not alive anymore, but that doesn't mean that he isn't real. He is a part of this house and this place and a part of our lives and we can't erase that. And we shouldn't try to. He was a very real part of everything and now, well, now he is just a memory of a different time and place. But one that we are lucky enough to have with us now."

"Forever?" Jonathan's eyes lit up.

"I think so," she nodded, praying that her son would never_**not**_ be able to see the Captain - that he would not outgrow his friend. "I hope so," she added. "Because I'm not sure what we would do without him."

"Me, neither," the boy sighed. He leaned down and hugged her and he allowed a kiss on his cheek.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Jonathan?"

"Did you go see Doc McNally and tell me that Captain Gregg didn't exist because Dr. Jim thought you were barmy?" Carolyn bit her lip, trying to keep from laughing. "Cause if you did, you needn't have worried. We know you are sane. You talked to yourself before we moved here. So don't worry."

"I did?"

He nodded. "All the time, whenever you got a good idea to write or wanted to remember something important."

"I guess I did, at that," she agreed. "I think I even used to argue with myself."

"And now you can argue with Captain Gregg!"

'I guess that is better." She hugged him again before getting up, trying not to notice how much it hurt her knees to squat like that. "So you won't mind if everyone thinks I'm a little crazy?"

Naw," he smiled up at her. "You are who you are."

"Well, I never." She picked him up; big as he was, and tickled him until they both couldn't laugh any more.

Crisis averted. For now.


	16. Dog Gone

**DOG GONE**

By Mary

_**Scruffy is not getting along well with the Captain. But when Scruffy vanishes, Jonathan thinks the Captain is to blame for the dog's sudden disappearance.**_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

The wire-haired terrier barked furiously at the specter and watched as he disappeared in a huff. In seconds, Candy and Jonathan were in the room, fussing and exclaiming over their pet.

"We're all happy to have you back, Scruffy," Carolyn added, and glanced at the Captain's portrait over the fireplace, which seemed to scowl his annoyance. "Well, almost all!" she added, with a laugh.

XXX

The rest of the day proceeded in an orderly manner, with no crises, large or small, except a small argument between Candy and Jonathan about who got to cuddle with Scruffy while they watched TV that evening. Carolyn solved the problem, suggesting that the little dog be allowed to sit on the couch between the children, (normally she did not like him on the living room furniture) while she took the rocking chair. Martha announced that she was tired, and retired to her room early.

By eight-thirty, try as she might, Candy could barely keep her eyes open. She kissed her mother and brother good night and headed for bed, leaving Jonathan on the couch watching _Star Trek._

"Time for bed," Carolyn announced, a half-hour later, as the credits rolled.

"Aw, Mom… it's only nine o'clock, and tomorrow's Saturday…" the boy answered, his eyes not leaving the screen.

"Bed time, now. There aren't any shows on now appropriate for you, anyway." Carolyn stood and walked to the TV, pushing the button to the 'off' position, and returned to the rocker where she sat down again.

"Appropriate?" the boy sighed.

"Good for someone your age."

Jonathan's big blue eyes turned away from the dark screen and toward his mother. "Can I sleep down here tonight?"

Carolyn frowned.

"Jonathan…" Carolyn frowned, "What's the matter?"

"Nuthin…"

Carolyn rolled her eyes. "I don't think that is an answer. Now what is it, sweetie?"

"I'm just not ready for bed yet." Jonathan answered, and then yawned.

"Your eyes - and that yawn tell me a different story."

"I can't go to sleep. If I do, I need to go tell the Captain goodnight, and… well… I'm kinda afraid to."

Surprised, his mother rose from her seat in the rocker and moved to where her small son was still seated on the couch.

"Afraid? Jonathan, why? You and the Captain are best buddies, aren't you?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

The boy shook his head. "I don't think we are anymore."

"Why in Heaven's name, not?"

"Because I got so mad at him… I thought he did something bad to Scruffy, but he didn't; he found him. And I told him he didn't have any feelings, and of course he does, because he used to be alive, and live people have feelings, and he tried to tell me about Sheila, and Scruffy and being in love, even when they fight, and I didn't let him finish…"

Carolyn put an arm around her son. "Jonathan, the Captain knows you were upset for a while, and that we had already talked about girl dogs and other animals and their mating times. He understands, really he does."

"But he hasn't been around… not since Scruffy barked at him this morning…"

"Honey, you have been with Candy and Scruffy all day – how could he?"

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. You think I should go up to the wheelhouse and say goodnight and maybe say I'm sorry?"

"Jonathan, just wish him goodnight, like you always do. I _know_ he isn't angry with you. Not now, and really, I don't think he was to begin with. It was just sort of a misunderstanding. We've talked. Trust me."

"Okay…" the boy answered, giving his mother a hug and a peck on the cheek, "'Night, Mom!" The boy slid off the couch and was away up the stairs a minute later.

Carolyn read for about fifteen more minutes, but finally she stood, smiling, and started making rounds of the house, checking doors and windows and turning off lights. She removed Scruffy's food bowl, still half-filled with dog kibble from the kitchen floor, stowed it away in a cupboard, and then mounted the stairs. After a quick peek in the nursery, where she found both her son and daughter sleeping, she reached her bedroom, or what Captain Gregg still referred to as 'The Master Cabin,' and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

_I wonder if it is worth it to try and write anything now?_ she mused, glancing toward the large mahogany desk and her typewriter.

"You aren't seriously considering working tonight, are you?" She heard the Captain's voice from inside her head, and he appeared beside her a moment later. "Jonathan and I said our goodnights about ten minutes ago. Everything's fine now and he is almost asleep. No need to wait up further on that account."

"I'm tired, but I should work," she replied, sitting down at the desk. "But I wasn't waiting for you to tell me about Jonathan. I just need to. Scruffy and I have to go to Keystone tomorrow morning, so I won't be getting much real writing done."

"You and Scruffy? Not the children? Or Martha? Blast it, why? Hasn't that walking shag-rug caused enough upheaval on this ship for the time being?"

"It is exactly because of Scruffy's – and your - recent adventures that I am going to Keystone."

"As usual with females, you are talking in riddles."

"I'll ignore that last remark, and just say you haven't asked the right question yet, but if you must know, Scruffy has an appointment with the vet. I need to be at his office by eight tomorrow morning."

The Captain's blue eyes opened a bit wider. "There's nothing wrong with him, is there? I just saw him – he's bunking down with the children tonight. He seems fine."

"Why, Captain!" Carolyn grinned, amused at the seaman's tone. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that you are actually worried about Scruffy!"

"Merely protecting my good name, my dear. I promised Jonathan that we could all be friends. If there is nothing the matter, why are you going to the vet and why so blasted early on a Saturday morning?"

"If you must know, I am getting Scruffy neutered tomorrow."

Carolyn swore she could see the stalwart sea captain growing visibly paler, as if his 'blood' was draining from his face and he stood there, shifting uncomfortably back and forth. "I have to have him there by eight in the morning, he goes into surgery, I go get some research done at the big library, and I'll pick him up around four and bring him home."

"You… you are going to do _WHAT???"_

"I am taking him up to Doctor Dunn in Keystone tomorrow to be… neutered."

"Neutered? As in CASTRATED? Sterilized? De-sexed…? Cuckolded?" By now, the sea captain was almost stuttering. "Why… that's… barbaric! How could you possibly do such a thing to that poor, defenseless dog?"

"Why, Captain! You ARE defending Scruffy!" Carolyn smiled, sat down on the leather loveseat, and tucked her legs underneath her.

"Madam, this is no laughing matter!" The ghost seated himself on the other end of the couch, carefully keeping his distance from her, and eyed her warily. "The whole idea is medieval!!"

Carolyn shook her head, amused. "Captain, surely you know why it needs to be done – actually you have seen such a procedure in you lifetime, haven't you? With large animals? Horses, perhaps? There was a need for them to be…"

"…Yes, yes, yes," The ghost waved his hand in front of his face, as if shooing her words away. "But there was a _need_ for that. But why Scruffy? Why put that poor animal through something so… so…"

"Painful?" Carolyn asked. "Captain, Doctor Dunn assures me that the surgery is quite safe and almost painless – he's done it a hundred times. Scruffy will be in a little discomfort for a few days."

"But why does he have to do it to Scruffy at all? Neutering that poor, defenseless pup will accomplish nothing but rob the poor fellow of his masculinity – it will turn him into a sissy. I can't have…"

"Captain…" Carolyn said softly.

"Besides…" he went on, "What if you want to breed him, some day? Or what if he wants to…"

"Mate with some other dog besides Shelia?" Carolyn cut in, "That is precisely why Scruffy is getting neutered. I should have done it at least a year ago, but there was too much going on at the time to even think about it." Her face turned pensive, for a moment, and she blinked back a tear.

"What do you mean, dear lady?" the Captain asked gently, all gruff and bluster gone from his voice.

Carolyn took a deep breath and then shrugged. "We were living in Philly then, of course. I was doing a story on a dog pound. The only day I could meet with the manager and staff was a Monday. The kids had the day off from school, so they went with me. I was waiting for the manager to have a few free moments and we were looking at all the dogs and cats in the cages, and there was Scruffy. He was about a year old then. He had been found wandering the streets, and had only just become available for adoption, as nobody had claimed him in the allotted time. Anyway, the kids found and fell in love with him at first sight. The manager in charge of the kennel knew a soft touch when he saw one, and when he said the kids could have him for $7.50, I knew we couldn't walk away."

"I always wondered how you came to find such a dog," the seaman smiled. "The children seem to love him so. But, about the…"

"Neutering." Carolyn said the word slowly and deliberately. "If it is a male dog, cat, or whatever. With females it is called spaying – a much more complicated surgery, really. It's like a mini-hysterectomy."

The Captain started to turn pale again. "But… why Scruffy?" he asked. "I understand not wanting to be saddled with unwanted puppies or kittens, but surely that is the responsibility of the female dog own…"

Carolyn rolled her eyes again. "Honestly, Captain! Can't you get your mind out of the 19th Century for just a few minutes? Pet over-population is everyone's concern. It takes two to tango, you know."

"But you didn't have Scruffy… uhm… taken care of before…"

"I was going to," she answered gently. "I had made an appointment with our vet in Philly, but he was booked for a week and a half. I was still going to, but as it so happens, that's when I stumbled on Claymore's ad for leasing Gull Cottage, and thoughts of everything else went to moving and saying goodbye to Philadelphia. Then we arrived here, got settled, and it just… slipped my mind until the whole thing with Mr. Norbert, I mean, Mr. Frank and Moby Dick, I mean Shirley – no, Shelia came up."

"So…" the seaman frowned. "You want to get this matter taken care of just because he became Shelia's husband, as it were? I must admit, I have a feeling Shelia's puppies are not going to be the most attractive animals on the planet!"

Carolyn shook her head again. "It isn't just that, though it is a part of it. Captain, when it comes to _animals_, neutering and spaying is just a good idea. I've looked at charts – you have no idea how many puppies one un-neutered dog can create, or one un-spayed female and her un-spayed offspring can produce in ten years. Cats, too… it runs into the tens of thousands. I would estimate that while we have sat here having this conversation, a thousand cats and dogs have been euthanized – not because they did anything wrong, but only because they were born into a world that has no room for them."

"Mrs. Muir, is it truly necessary for just one little dog? We could ask the children and Martha to be more careful and keep the little fellow on a leash."

It will benefit Scruffy… and us… in a number of ways, too," Carolyn went on. For one thing, he won't escape and wander as much – decreasing his chances of getting hit by a car, or mauled by another dog that is bigger than he is. Yes, his aggressive tendencies will go down, too. Not just to you and Claymore…"

"Madam, must you put that mealworm and me in the same sentence?"

"Yes, because it's true. Scruffy will stop fighting with other dogs, as well. Martha mentioned he has done that more than once, and she told me, confidentially, that when he was gone, she was very worried that another dog could have seriously hurt him."

"Still, such surgery…" the Captain un-crossed and then re-crossed his long legs. "It seems somewhat drastic…"

"It's also better for Scruffy's general health," Carolyn continued. "It decreases the possibility of him developing testicular cancer and other things, including prostate gland disease, cysts, or prostate enlargement." A small frown came to her lovely face. "Pets never last long enough. I always thought it drastically unfair that animals can't live as long as people do. I want Scruffy to have as long a life as possible. I'm being… proactive."

"I had no idea," the Captain shook his head, "About all the health issues animals can have because of something like this. But come to think of it, I don't remember my dogs – or ships cats having a long life-span, particularly." He paused for a moment and then continued. "But can you can afford this?"

"I can manage it," Carolyn nodded. "I was paid a bit more than I thought I would be for that article I did about lighthouses last month. This is important. Not to mention, Doctor Dunn is a bit of a radical. He does his spaying and neutering for as low a cost as he can, simply because he believes in the health of the animal, preventative measures, that is, and in controlling pet overpopulation. The only thing he warned me about is that sometimes, after an animal has been neutered, they can get a little overweight if they are not exercised enough. But with Candy and Jonathan around and Scruffy's natural active nature and temperament, I'm really not worried." She gave the seaman a sunny smile. "He also says that after a few days, and he heals, Scruffy won't even remember life before the surgery. Smart as animals can be, they just don't remember things the way humans do. So are you convinced? I really need to get to sleep. Morning is going to come quickly, and its twenty miles to Keystone. I don't even KNOW how long it will take to catch Scruffy tomorrow morning. I took away his kibble – the vet said not to feed him anything after midnight. Close enough to that, now. By tomorrow morning, he'll know something is up. I need to sleep NOW."

"I suppose," Daniel said, nodding his head.

"Good," she nodded. "It really is for the best. I only wish I had gotten it done earlier – we could have avoided our difficulties of the past few days."

"Madam?"

"Yes Captain?"

"I think it would be best… that is…" the ghost's voice broke off.

"Captain? What is it?"

"Allow me to accompany you and Scruffy tomorrow morning?" Not looking at her, the seaman tugged as his jacket sleeves and flicked away an imaginary speck of dust.

Carolyn smiled in understanding. "You want to come to the library with me, Captain?" she asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Thank you for the invitation, but alas, no, I cannot. I think I will observe Scruffy's surgery and make sure all goes well."

Carolyn cocked her head and stared at Daniel Gregg for a moment. "Have you ever uh… seen this type of surgery before, Captain?"

"With horses and cattle, yes, a few times, many years ago."

"But you… ah… didn't _know_ them… I mean, I would love to have you look out over Scruffy, but ah… can you handle it?"

"My dear woman…" he winked, inched a few inches closer to her spot on the couch and materialized a bottle of very old, very good brandy and two glasses and began to pour them both a nightcap. "If Scruffy is man enough to handle such a significant and life-changing event, I am!"

END


	17. A Pain in the Neck

**A PAIN IN THE NECK**

**By Mary**

_**Claymore slips a disc and cannot be moved, so he becomes a very unwelcome and demanding guest at Gull Cottage.**_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

**January 25, 1969**

"_Sometimes people are lonely without admitting it… not even to themselves. A life-long bachelor… set in his ways… getting a little eccentric as the years pass… and suddenly he finds himself part of a family… and he likes it because he's cared for, given attention, and affection…"_

Daniel Gregg paced the widow's-walk, recalling Carolyn Muir's tender words from a few days before when Claymore's slipped disc had grounded him at Gull Cottage for a month, one week. Silently, he gazed down at the empty space in front of Gull Cottage, where the Muir family station wagon was usually parked. The family, feeling a need for a respite after tending to Claymore's needs for what seemed like an eternity, had accepted an invitation from Carolyn's old friend Betty to visit Boston for a few days to sight-see and just relax. The best thing about the visit was that all it would cost them was the gas, and after a week granting Claymore's every wish, the time off filled their needs to a '**T**'. The kids were thrilled because they got an extra day off from school, Martha was happy because she didn't have to cook or keep house, and Carolyn was pleased because her family was. The only one that hadn't been enthralled, though he didn't say so, was Daniel Gregg.

"_When will they be home?"_ he asked the afternoon sky. No answer was forthcoming, and with a sigh, he disappeared, re-materializing on the flagstone walk in front of his home. Just then, he saw Claymore's old 1934 Ford touring car come rattling up the road. "What does that barnacle want now?" he muttered, and then dematerialized and watched the landlord pull up in front of Gull Cottage and get out of his automobile.

Carefully, the lanky man tiptoed up the walk, glancing around and over his shoulder, the entire way. He climbed the stairs to the porch, and taking a deep breath, knocked on the slate blue door of the cottage several times. "Yoo-hoo! Anyone home?" he called softly, rapping on the door again.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Captain Gregg moved himself from the sidewalk, to just inside the front door, and opened it in 'mortal' fashion.

"Good afternoon, Claymore!"

The landlord held his arms up in front of his face in the shape of a cross and closed his eyes. "Don't hurt me!" he whined, "You can't hurt me… I'm still recovering from my grievous injuries!"

The Captain rolled his eyes. "Idiot; All I did was answer the door! Why are you trespassing on my ship?"

"Captain!" Claymore protested. "It's MY ship… uhm, house. And I didn't come to see you; I came to see Mrs. Muir…"

"Do you see her car in front?" Daniel demanded. "Of course not. Mrs. Muir, Martha and the children are away for the weekend; Resting and recovering after their week catering to YOU."

"Me? What did I do?" Claymore asked, dumbfounded, boldly stepping into the foyer of Gull Cottage, "I was in bed the whole time! Well, almost the whole time!" Claymore shuddered, remembering the ghost surprising him on the stairs and his second fall.

"Running my crew ragged, and you know it!" Daniel snapped, heading toward the parlor, Claymore following him. "Special meals, entertainments, being read to, being treated like a royal potentate! Now state your business, and be quick about it. I don't have all day, you know."

"I don't have any," Claymore answered back, quietly. "Business, that is. It's just that… I don't know, I just have some time to kill, and thought I would just drop by and say hello… see if the kids were up for a game of checkers, or Monopoly or something. I'm in the mood for a real challenge… and they aren't bad opponents… for kids, that is."

The Captain frowned_. "And…?"_

"That's all, really… unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Well, if Mrs. Muir or Martha asked me to stay to dinner, I wouldn't turn them down."

"You've mooched enough food from Mrs. Muir to last until Boxing Day!"

"When's that? Wait, don't tell me – a day you reserve the right to wallop me for no reason."

"Don't be a fool, Claymore. I thought even YOU knew that Boxing Day is December 26 – the day after Christmas. The name derives from the English tradition giving gifts, in boxes, to less fortunate members of society in the days when people worked in rural economies such as estates. Later it extended to laborers, servants, service staff, postal workers and trades-people."

"No wonder I haven't heard of it. Why give gifts to people you don't have to?"

"I would expect such a response from you, Claymore."

"Why are you in such a bad mood? I thought you'd be dancing for joy, now that you've scuttled me!"

Daniel shrugged. "You can put me in a foul mood, just by being you."

"I thought maybe you might be feeling threatened," Claymore answered, plopping down on the sofa without permission.

Thunder rolled. "Threatened?" Daniel paced the floor. "Why would I be threatened by the likes of YOU???" he shouted, wondering what had gotten into his ersatz descendant.

"Well, all the time I was here last week, you never once challenged me to any game of skill…" Claymore went on. "Not checkers, chess, cards, Monopoly, Risk… anything."

"I had better things to do than to play trivial board games with you – you're lucky anyone wanted to keep you company at all – eating this family out of house and home – making special demands - mewling for attention, morning, noon and night!"

"I was wracked with pain…"

"For a very short time. You spent the rest of your visit here running everyone off their feet and making unreasonable requests."

"You're changing the subject," Claymore pouted. "I don't think you CAN beat me in real game of skill!"

"Pshaw. Monopoly isn't skill; most of it depends on the roll of the dice."

"And financial acumen! Which I have tons of!"

Daniel Gregg shook his head, wondering why, today of all days, Claymore had chosen to be so outspoken, or to come to Gull Cottage at all, for that matter. Maybe the fellow was bored to the point of desperation after his week of constant attention? Well, THAT he could almost understand. _Almost._ But making Carolyn to spend her hard earned, desperately needed money was a different matter entirely. Suddenly, the spirit had an idea. Daniel paused for a moment, and rubbed his beard, thoughtfully.

"I suppose I can spare you an hour or so. What would be your game of choice, Claymore?"

"Really? You really mean it?"

"Yes, but make a decision before I change my mind."

"Checkers?"

"Child's game. Make it chess."

"I'm better at checkers."

"And I'm better at chess."

"Huh. Figures. I only play chess with Deke and Norrie. I always beat them, but I bet they aren't as good as a ghost… uhm, spirit."

"Skill at chess has nothing to do with being a spirit."

"Big talk. Okay, you're on. Where's your board?"

"Here," Daniel motioned open a drawer in an antique secretary behind where Claymore was sitting, and floated the board and pieces to the coffee table between them.

"Nice…" Claymore nodded, fingering one of the ivory figures. "How did I miss this? This set is much better than mine."

"Don't get any ideas, Claymore," Daniel growled.

"Erk… No, sir…"

XXX

For the next hour, there was no conversation except that related to chess. Claymore struggled but proved to be a much better opponent than Captain Gregg would ever admit, but the bespectacled man soon acknowledged defeat for a second time, and then, gently, he started putting the chess pieces back in the box they came from.

"You're good, darn it; thought maybe I might have found something to be better at than you."

"Not likely, Claymore," the ghost gave him a look, "But as opponents go, you surprised me, somewhat. I might almost be willing now to challenge you to that game of Monopoly you were interested in before."

"Oh-ho!" Claymore chuckled, perking up enormously at sensing a 'sucker game.' "Now? I've still got nothing going on this afternoon."

"I suppose," the Captain nodded, hiding a grin. He gestured, and the Monopoly game, which had been in the nursery, appeared in his hands.

"That's a good trick," Claymore commented, grabbing the box from the spirit. "I'll be banker, of course…" he continued, unfolding the board. Grabbing the metal playing pieces, he shook them in his cupped hands. "I'm the shoe, naturally. And I guess you want to be the battleship? They don't have a sailing ship." The ghost merely nodded, and watched as Claymore put the dice in the middle of the board, the two playing pieces on 'Start,' the yellow and orange Community Chest and Chance cards in their places, and then arranged the deeds, houses and hotels to one side of the board, out of the way. Lastly, almost reverently, he took out all the multi-colored paper money, and carefully sorted it, by denomination, (making sure the printing was all going in the same direction), and when he was satisfied, he started to deal out the 'starter' currency, counting all his money out first. Out loud.

"Two $500's, two $100's, two $50's, six $20's, five $5's, five $1's," he counted. "Now you." Reaching for the money again, he started to count, but when he got to the $20 bills, to the landlord's horror, instead of play money leaving his hand, he was astounded to see six REAL twenty-dollar bills land on the table, which were immediately scooped up by Captain Gregg.

"Saaaayyyyyyy!!" he sputtered, making a grab for the cash, and missing. A second later, the money was in Daniel Gregg's pocket.

"Just a little financial recompense," the ghost answered smugly.

"What do you mean?! How did you do that?" Claymore sputtered, pulling out his wallet, and seeing a lone dollar left where an hour before he had $121.00. "Give me my money!"

"You just gave it to me…" Daniel grinned. "It's my money now."

"It-it was Monopoly money at first – but then it turned real… and came straight from my pocket! What's the big idea?"

"Merely collecting what you owe Mrs. Muir, you lout."

"I don't owe her a thing! She owes me! I was generous enough not to sue her…"

"Because you knew you would never collect, Claymore. In name, if not in actuality, Gull Cottage is yours in the eyes of the law. You can sue, but you can't collect for damages from a renter on property that the law recognizes as yours. Repairs, and maintenance, as I have told you so often before, is YOUR responsibility."

"But…"

"It was a shallow trick, Claymore…"

"But… but… how can you… What did you… What makes you think Mrs. Muir needs my hundred and twenty dollars?"

"Do you need to ask?" Claymore heard thunder. "Your medical prescriptions, your neck brace, Doctor Feeny's two house calls to Gull Cottage… aspirin… the bill to move your blasted stereo here and then back to your lodgings… That last was thirty dollars alone!"

"But all together, that isn't…"

"And shall we discuss the grocery bills while you were here?"

"The vacation I missed after I came out here and got hurt included meals!"

"Humbug, Claymore! I checked! Cereal with powdered milk for breakfasts, box lunches all five days of your trip and the special at what ever diner you landed at for dinner! Need I REMIND you of what you have been eating while you were here?" The landlord gulped as Daniel started counting on his fingers. "French bouillabaisse - Tournedos avac sauce béarnaise - avocados with lime glaze sauce - Cherries Jubilee! Cream Soda - Eggs Benedict - café au lait! Frogs Legs! Asparagus tips - shrimp cocktail – wine… escargots a la bourguignome - Shish-ke-bob! Baked Alaska! Meat and cheese for that Dagwood Sandwich you dropped, filet migon, lyonnaise potatoes, creamed asparagus… and that's just what I remember!"

"I ate all that?" Claymore gulped again. "No wonder my pants are tight – I thought the cleaners did something…"

"Someone else you should apologize to," Daniel snapped. "Not to mention the dozen eggs Martha lost when your stereo blasted her to kingdom come – and the other dishes broken!"

"Mrs. Muir spent that much on just me?" Claymore had the grace to look guilty. "You sure that doesn't count the Muir's and Martha eating, too?"

"For the last week, Mrs. Muir, Martha and the children have been living on nothing but tuna casserole, and what fish Jonathan and I could catch, which haven't been many - It's too cold in January to catch many."

"Still…" Daniel could see Claymore calculating the figures in his head. "A hundred and twenty dollars still seems a bit high…"

"Looking at Martha's store receipts, it's very much on target," the Captain growled. "A hundred and ten… and of course that doesn't include labor costs – Martha's talents in the kitchen… Mrs. Muir's endless trips up and downstairs, the extra electric, gas and water fees…"

"Then I should get ten dollars back…" Claymore protested, "You said…"

"The ten dollars is mine, and I am giving it to Mrs. Muir," Daniel stated firmly.

"Yours? What for?"

"For you EVER suggesting I should give you a shampoo!" Daniel bellowed, and Claymore heard thunder boom again. "I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, under any circumstances! Now… do you have anything else to say?" Daniel's stormy visage dared the other man to even_ try_ to say another word.

"No, Sir…" Claymore shook his head and sunk back in the couch. "Honestly, Captain, I didn't think about them spending that much, just what a great cook I knew Martha was, and having people around to talk to for a change. I don't get very many visitors, I mean, friends coming to call at my place. Guess that's because it's my office, too… people don't think to socialize there."

Daniel took a deep breath and counted to ten. Claymore's words echoed what Carolyn had said before about Claymore almost being glad he was hurt. And like it or not, she had a point. _How many years had he spend in solitude at Gull Cottage, alone and hating his afterlife before Carolyn and her family had arrived? _

Taking another deep breath, the spirit seated himself opposite the other man. "Finish dealing your play money, Claymore. We have a little more time to kill before I need to get back to my sea charts."

Nodding in semi-understanding and glad that the Captain's tirade was over, Claymore Gregg did just that.

XXX

Carolyn Muir and family arrived home the next day, late, and with little fanfare, she and Martha managed to pour a very sleepy Candy and Jonathan into bed. Martha retired shortly after that, and Carolyn followed suit, idly wondering where her ghost was and why he hadn't greeted the family upon their homecoming. Snuggling deep under the covers, her hand reached to the side under her pillow, and in wonderment, she pulled out the money Daniel had wangled from Claymore. It didn't take a genius to figure out what might have transpired in her absence.

"Thank-you, Captain," she murmured softly. "May I take it you had a few words with my landlord? I'd like to hear more about this tomorrow!"

"You're quite welcome, Madam," Daniel's velvet voice reached into her head and heart. "You most certainly shall!"

END


	18. Strictly Relative

**STRICTLY RELATIVE**

By Kathy

_**Carolyn's in-laws (Ralph and Marjorie Muir) show up at Gull Cottage for a visit. They aren't thrilled that she and the children live in such a "remote place" as Maine and Jonathan not having any "male influence," in his life and they offer her a very comfortable living arrangement if she will "come home" to Philadelphia.**_

_**Carolyn doesn't want to go, but she also doesn't want to hurt her late husband's parent's feelings. Since Jonathan has forgot and already talked about Captain Gregg, the ghostly sea captain takes charge of the situation, and drafts Claymore, taking him into training, a-la "My Fair Lady" with Captain Gregg playing Henry Higgins (a role Edward Mulhare played on Broadway for three years after the departure of Rex Harrison) to pretend to be a modern Captain Gregg… and Carolyn's suitor. **_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

Marjorie Muir refrained from saying anything until their rental car was well on the way to Boston. She had spent most of the hour they had canvassed the back roads that led to the highway, wondering if she should even broach the subject.

Ralph had all the signs of a well-fed, happy little boy. He had taken off his suit coat and rolled up his shirtsleeves, loosened his tie and had put the top down on the car. He was even whistling, oblivious to the music coming over the radio. He was in his element. And as such, she hated to bring him back down to earth. But she had to know, and therefore had to ask. Thirty-six years of marriage had taught her to do so gently.

"Ralph, dear," she said quietly, waiting for an acknowledgment. When, after several seconds, there was no response, she cleared her throat and tried again. He had his faults but to her he was attentive… unless she was competing against a golf game.

"Ralph, dear," she said, making her voice higher this time.

He turned slightly to smile at her. "Yes, my Marjorie, what is it?"

She groaned inwardly. If he was using his term of affection for her, then she knew he was beyond happy - ecstatic. Breaking this bubble was going to be hard.

"Darling…" she paused. Doubting Ralph was never easy. But sometimes it had to be done. "Did you really like that man?"

"And what man is that?" He turned down the radio, but kept whistling his tuneless song.

"Captain Gregg," she shook her head, "Carolyn's, um… fiancé. She hated the sound of that word and Carolyn being the same sentence. Not forever, just when it involved that bumbling idiot that they had left behind at Gull Cottage. "Did you really like him?"

"What's not to like? I admit he was a little strange, but I liked him. He was a darn nice guy. And most important of all, he's a man that is willing to take care of Carolyn and the kids. Lord knows someone needs to."

Marjorie bit back the next words that came to her mind, knowing an argument wouldn't be worth anything right now. Ralph had a very high opinion of women as mothers and wives, but when it came to them taking matters into their own hands as their daughter-in-law had done, it made him uncomfortable. Stubborn women were not his cup of tea.

"Actually, I thought she's doing a great job all by herself. The children are happy and healthy and well cared for. She showed me some of her writings and they are quite good. I mean they are perhaps living in reduced circumstances…?"

"Perhaps?" he snorted. "If there circumstances become anymore reduced, they will be living on nothing. And yet she had the audacity to pass up my offer of help."

"Well, you did come on a little strong, dear." Marjorie smiled. "You didn't even ask her what she thought about moving first, or sending Jonathan to Dexter. She barely had time to think, what with all the commands you were spouting about."

"But there were for her own good," Ralph persisted. "She won't listen, you know she won't. She never has. She's always been mule-headed about everything. I'm not sure how Bobby put up with her."

"He loved her," the woman said with a smile. "Love makes you do crazy things." She, above all people knew what that statement meant. Hadn't she been married to the most stubborn and obnoxious man she knew for a great part of her life, and put up with him, simply because she loved him? Her son could do no less. "I don't think she's that bad." She added. "She just wants what she wants; just like you do, Ralph, dear." She laid a hand on his knee.

"Well, yeah," he admitted after a while. But it's just not attractive for a female."

"If she were a dish-rag, you wouldn't like that either."

"Oh, I don't know..."

"No, you wouldn't," she said softly. "Think about it. You admire Carolyn for sticking up for herself and doing what she knows is right. I don't think there is anyone who wants those grandchildren in Philadelphia more than I do. I miss them so much, it makes my heart hurt at times. When they moved, it was like losing Bobby all over again." She tried to hide the tears that persisted and Ralph did her the courtesy of pretending not to notice, but she knew he did, because he touched her shoulder briefly before returning his hand to the wheel. "But that doesn't mean that she shouldn't be able to live her own life, to do what she thinks is right. We aren't the parents anymore, Ralph. She is. And I think she has to do what she needs to do. And I don't think you, going in and telling her what she needs to do was the way to go about it."

He looked at her in surprise and she had to admit she even surprised herself a bit.

"I did my bulldozer imitation again, didn't I?" his grin was almost sheepish. She wished she had a camera. It was a rare occurrence.

"Yes, you did." She smiled in reference to the phrase their son had used about his father's opinions and the way he presented them.

Boston was approaching in all its glory and he guided the car toward the airport. Ralph Muir wasn't one to spend too many nights away from the comfort of his home and his own bed. Two days of "roughing it" had been enough for him.

"Ralph?" she asked, as they were heading to the rental car drop-off point.

"Yes, Marjorie?"

"You really didn't like that man did you? Didn't you think he was more than a little strange? I can't see Carolyn with a man like that."

"Neither can I," he agreed. "But she certainly got her point across with him."

"Her point?"

"Living there in that house, with only herself for support is preferable to living with us. She wanted to show us so badly; she went out of her way to show us that everything was fine. If you ask me, I think it was all a put-on. It would have had to be. There is no way that man was for real." He shook his head. "Now, if the Captain in that _portrait_ were available, then maybe we would have been onto something."

"Then why did you pretend to believe it?" Marjorie had to know; content now that she knew that Ralph wasn't going insane.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about." He pulled the car into a parking spot. "Believe what?" He winked at her.

She could only smile back.


	19. Chowderhead

**CHOWDERHEAD**

**By Mary**

_**The Captain is livid when he finds his face (from an old photograph, taken by Matthew Brady) is being used to advertise a new brand of clam chowder. A visit from Admiral Schnedaker, the chowder's creator, changes his mind, but not Carolyn's – who is not keen on ad-men and photographers taking over her house. A little praise in the right places restores the norm, however, and peace soon returns to Gull Cottage.**_

_**Author's note: A bit of the early dialogue in this story, the part about picking a photo for the article, was actually in the original Chowderhead script – at the beginning of the episode. The lines were chopped before the first network broadcast, leaving sharp-eyed viewers to wonder why Carolyn had photos of herself on the mantle piece with no explanation at all! I decided to bring the lines back into play. So my thanks to the writers of this episode, Joseph Bonaduce and Edward R. White.**_

**GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM**

"Mrs. Muir, you don't really think this face could scare crows?"

"Captain! Any crow scared of that face – is chicken! As a matter of fact, I think a lot of women would have bought Yankee Skipper Clam Chowder."

"Really?"

"I know I would!"

He smiled, pleased.

"Mrs. Muir, I hope you don't think it is necessary to console me. As you know, I have absolutely NO personal vanity. It is not, as the current phrase has it, one of my hang-ups."

The Captain went back to re-arranging his sea chest, but Carolyn couldn't help but notice that he stowed away a can of the Yankee Skipper Clam Chowder can bearing his likeness.

"_No personal vanity?" _She smiled to herself.

**Two weeks later**

Carolyn shifted several studio portraits of herself around on the mantelpiece. The photos were all conventional 8x10 portraits, each showing her in different poses, moods and outfits. She sighed, and pulled out yet another from a folder and added it to the group already on the mantle, studying them for a few moments and then smiled as Captain Daniel Gregg materialized behind her.

"Good afternoon, Captain!" she said, turning to face him. "Isn't it a lovely day?"

Daniel Gregg's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he hid his surprise at Carolyn's increasing ability to sense when he was near, visible or not. Silently, he gazed at the photographs she had laid out on the mantle, and admired his personal favorite: Carolyn, in a green sweater, leaning over the back of a striped couch, chin resting on her folded arms, and smiling off into the distance. _Breathtaking. The only I like more, _he reflected silently, _is the one Jonathan showed me right after Vanessa's descendant visited… the one in the Muir photo album… the one right next to her husband's photo…_

"Which one do _you_ like, Captain?" Carolyn asked, studying the photos again carefully.

Daniel Gregg let his eyes roll to the back of his head.

"Madam," he began, dryly. "I could outfit a ship, enlist a crew, and be _underway_ in less time than it is taking you to choose one BLASTED photograph! Why are you agonizing so over such a simple matter?"

"Well, my editor asked for a picture of me, and I want it to be a _good _one."

"Why?"

"Because I'd like the picture to be one that…"

"No, I mean why does the editor _want _your picture?"

"Oh! They're running an article I wrote, and they want to use a picture of me in the same issue."

"Can't your article stand on its literary merit?"

"Of course it can! But it's customary to run pictures of the contributors with the story. Sort of an eye-catcher. What's wrong with it?"

"It's improper, indelicate, and undignified. You'll be on public display on every newsstand from Nantucket to the Barbary Coast. Of course, being a _woman_, you probably _like_ the idea…"

"I can't say I'm totally against it… any more than you ended up being totally opposed to the idea of appearing on the Yankee Skipper Clam Chowder can two weeks ago, and…"

"I did decide against it, Mrs. Muir," the Captain frowned, "I've told you, I have no personal…"

"…No personal vanity, I know." Carolyn answered back. "Still, I can just imagine what you would do if… if…"

"If, what, Madam?"

"Oh, if Claymore decided to get rid… or replace your portrait in the parlor. Don't tell me THAT wouldn't bother you!"

"Why? Has that eel-brained idiot suggested such a thing? Why, I'll keel…"

Carolyn lifted a hand. "Of course not. He wouldn't dare, you know that, unless he thought you couldn't stop him, or he developed a death wish!" She gave her ghost a big smile. "I'm just proving my point. Most people – and I think spirits too – like putting their best foot forward, given the chance. That's all I'm trying to do. My picture, which will probably only be one inch by two inches, by the way, hardly a full photo spread, will merely draw the reader's eye to my article. And the more readers I get, the more reactions, I hope, and the more chance I have of people liking my work and wanting to see more of it. More writing, more money - that's all." Carolyn lowered her hand and reached for a photograph where she was smiling and faced the camera dead-on. "I'm tired of worrying about it. I guess I will send them this one."

"Nay, Madam," Daniel Gregg removed the photo from her hand, and substituted his favorite. "Use this one. It's more 'you,' as the children would say. Besides, _**I**_ like it." He smiled. "I suppose I can understand mortal's needs, and wanting to represent themselves in the best possible light. In my case, however, if I had been given a choice on the chowder label matter, I think that the Admiral would have done better using my portrait than my photo." Then he shook his head. "However, my dear, I still maintain, I am NOT vain."

Carolyn suppressed a chuckle; she knew better. "Of course not, Captain."

Satisfied, for the time being, the ghost snapped his fingers. "Speaking of the children, where are they, Dear Lady?"

"Martha went to pick them up," Carolyn answered, "Candy is bringing home her big art project today. You know; the one she started right after Admiral Schnedaker left that has been such a secret? She's been working on it at school, and it was too big to carry home on the bus, or her bike, by herself. They should be here almost any time."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth then the two heard the sounds of the front door opening, children's feet, and Martha's heavier tread in the foyer. The three entered the parlor a few minutes later, Candy and Jonathan carrying a large cardboard box. The Captain started to vanish, but Candy's words stopped him.

"Here's my project, Mom! Finally done! I just wish Captain Gregg was alive to see it!"

"_Hmm…"_ Carolyn heard the spirit's voice in her ear. _"…What's this?"_

"Uhm… Captain…?"

""_Relax, Madam, nobody can hear or see me except you."_

"Yeah, Captain Gregg," the little girl continued. "Jonathan, let's put the box on the coffee table… I think he'd like my project. That is, if he was here…"

Carolyn grinned slightly.

"I'm sure he would, Candy, but what…?"

Jonathan blew out a breath, looking frustrated.

"She's been saying that all the way home, Mom, but she won't tell me what it is."

"Me either," Martha chimed in. "Not that I really care if that ogre in the painting likes it, but since I know, in a vague sort of way, what it is, I'm eager to see your faces when you see it!"

"You know something about this, Martha?" Carolyn raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I do. Candy needed my permission before she could… well, you'll see." She paused. "But Candy, Jonathan, wouldn't you like to put this on hold long enough to eat your after school snack?"

"We-l-l-l…" Candy drew the word out. "I guess I would like something to eat first…" Her eyes twinkled, and Jonathan groaned again.

"Mom!!! Make Candy stop teasing us!"

Outside, there was a slight rumble of thunder.

"Crazy Maine weather!" Martha frowned, and turned to her employer. "Mrs. Muir, I made a batch of sugar cookies for the kids earlier… nothing fancy or crumbly. They're all ready. Maybe just this one time the kids could eat in here on trays? And I think there's still some coffee in the pot. Just take a few minutes to warm it up. Then we could snack, and see Candy's surprise at the same time." She gave Carolyn a knowing wink.

"That'd be super!" both children said simultaneously, and Carolyn nodded her head.

"Just this once, as a special treat, kids," she agreed. "Don't get any bright ideas about this being an everyday thing."

XXX

It didn't take long for Martha to heat up the coffee and pour milk for the children, and fifteen minutes later, everyone was once again settled in the parlor.

"Okay, Candy," Jonathan started, "How come Martha's seen your project and we haven't?"

The little girl shook her head.

"Martha hasn't seen it; she just knows about it, sorta, because I had to kinda take something from the kitchen… I mean the pantry… I mean… food… sorta…" she hedged.

Carolyn shook her head. "I don't understand, Candy. Have you been making macaroni art again? That box is rather big… how many bags of…"

"I guess I just better show you," the little girl grinned, and pulled off the tape holding the sides of the cardboard box together. "I got an 'A' on it!"

Everyone in the room, including Daniel Gregg, let out a small gasp as the cardboard fell away and they beheld what was inside.

"That's… it's ME…" the spirit said, moving invisibly closer to the object on the table. "All over… The chowder can…"

"Do you like it, Mom?" Candy asked, beaming, "Its decoupage, see? I took a bunch of the labels off the Yankee Skipper cans… we had three cases… that's a lot of cans… that's the part Martha knew about… and glued them all over this old sea chest that Mr. Tuttle donated to the school. Then I spent a week and a half covering it with decoupage varnish… one layer every day. See how the labels… and the Captain's pictures are kind of imbedded in the varnish? Touch it… it feels just like glass."

Carolyn stroked the top lightly, and lovingly.

"It's beautiful, Candy! Just lovely!"

"Never seen that old sea dog look better," Martha chuckled. "I think I like this picture better that that old portrait!" She glanced toward the fireplace.

"What's inside?" Jonathan demanded, "The same? More labels?"

Candy shook her head. "No, fabric. Red velvet. Mrs. Crowley had the material in her miscellaneous supply cupboard. I had to sew a lining for the chest, and then she helped me glue it into position, and finish the edges with special tape so the glued places wouldn't show." She glanced up at her mother. "So do you like it, Mom? You aren't mad that I used all the Yankee Skipper labels are you? Martha said it would be okay as long as I wrote "chowder" on all the cans I took the labels off of. That was part of the deal."

"Candy, it's beautiful," Carolyn hugged her daughter, and then glanced at the Captain, who was grinning from ear to ear. _No… no personal vanity in him…_ She giggled to herself.

"What are you going to do with it?" Martha asked. "Display it here in the living room?"

"If you want me to, I will," Candy replied, "But I would really have it upstairs in Jonathan's and my room. I want to keep my really special stuff in it. Like Jonathan keeps his really good things in that old chest he and Claymore dug up – you know – the one that had the peg leg in it?"

"I think that is a wonderful idea," Carolyn nodded. "Everyone needs a special place to store things."

"Captain Gregg stores lots of great stuff in his sea chests," Jonathan broke in.

"It'd be fun to see just what is in them!" Candy smiled. "Someday… Mom?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"If the Captain was around… I mean, here, now, do you think he would like it?"

"I bet he thinks it's groovy," Jonathan said.

The Ghost of Gull Cottage nodded and gave a wide smile to Carolyn, and an invisible one to Candy Muir.

"No thinking about it," Carolyn said, reaching out to give her daughter another hug. "I know he would."

XXX

Late that evening, after the children were in bed and asleep, and Martha had retired, Carolyn stepped out onto the balcony of the Master Cabin.

"You are determined to catch your death, coming out here with no wrap to keep you warm," said Daniel Gregg, materializing with one of Carolyn's sweaters in his hand. A moment later, it was draped over her shoulders.

"It isn't that cold, but thank you." Carolyn gazed into the ghost's bright blue eyes for a moment. "I was just thinking…"

"About what? Don't tell me you have changed your mind about which photograph goes with your article?"

"No…" Carolyn shook her head. "I was wondering about Candy and her art project. It seems to me from a few things she has been saying and doing lately that she has taken a real liking to you, even if she doesn't know you are here. Officially, I mean. Maybe its time to start thinking about telling her about… you?"

"Today was certainly a step forward…" the seaman rubbed his beard. "…A big step. But somehow, I don't think she is quite ready yet. But fear not, Dear Lady. The time will come."

"But when, Captain?"

"Soon. Before you know it. I will know when the time is right, and so will Candy."

"What kind of an answer is that?" Carolyn sighed, impatiently.

"The best I can give for now," the ghost answered. "Trust me."

"I do," Carolyn answered, turning and heading back inside to her warm bed. "I do, and I always will. Goodnight, Captain Gregg."

Slowly, the spirit faded into the ether.

"Goodnight, m'dear… and sweet dreams!"

END


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